


Might or Magic

by BloodUnbound



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Angst and Humor, Banter, Character Development, Digital Art, Drama, F/M, Fear, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda wingin' it here, M/M, My First Fanfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 19:49:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 37
Words: 219,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3703421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodUnbound/pseuds/BloodUnbound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tales will always be told about the Blight in Ferelden. The shortest in history, it was the one that had the best chance at ending the world. If not for a handful of Grey Wardens, this story would not be told at all.<br/>The Hero of Ferelden, the Warden who struck the killing blow against the Archdemon and lived... Who were they really?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Search

**Author's Note:**

> I plan on including art of characters and eventually scenes in each chapter. I'll start by posting at the bottom of the page, but if anyone would rather see it at the top, please inform me.

It has been four centuries since the last Blight. The archdemon Andoral was the leader of the darkspawn armies that devastated so much of northeast and northwest Thedas. The Blight persisted for twelve years and it wasn’t until the famed battle of Ayesleigh that the Grey Warden Garahel put an end to the corrupted dragon’s life. So many darkspawn had been slain towards the end that many believed that would be the end of the tide of darkness that had haunted Thedas for so long. Four centuries is a long time, the longest time between Blights ever recorded. No wonder it was viewed as no more than a nightmare, a bad dream that would remain in the past.  
The Grey Wardens, champions against the Blights and the dreaded darkspawn, are now viewed as antiquities, an order that has survived long past its use. Still, the Wardens are ever vigilant, fighting the small darkspawn raids that occur here and there on the surface, even occasionally venturing into the Deep Roads.  
Their numbers are few now, as most people don’t see the point behind joining what they consider to be a defunct order, warriors that are no longer of any use to the world, forever resting on the laurels of those who died centuries before them. They are far too few now. If a new Blight should come and they have not rebuilt their order, Thedas may not survive. They can only pray that they are given the chance to prove themselves once more, saving the world from a fate worse than simply death.  
\------------------------  
9:30 Dragon, Guardian 12th  
\------------------------  
It was unusually dry for the time of year, Duncan noticed. There were a few clouds in the sky, yes, but he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of a rainstorm in weeks. For the Korcari Wilds, this was indeed unusual. The southern forest was mostly swamp and ruins as far as the eye could see. A low mist was ever present, crawling across the wet, marshy ground like a swarm of insects. It was more than likely that there were actual swarms of insects creeping beneath the mists, actually.  
_There should be rain,_ Duncan thought to himself for the umpteenth time. Since he’d lead the Wardens to the edge of the Wilds, he’d known something was wrong. The darkspawn sightings were worrisome as always, but that wasn't why he’d insisted on bringing all of the Fereldan Grey Wardens to what was commonly viewed as the ass end of the kingdom. He feared that they may have a Blight on their hands.  
_No._ He shook his head. He _knew_ it was a Blight. He wasn’t the only Warden that felt it, of course. Many of the elder Wardens that had joined him in Ferelden knew. They’d all had the dreams. Now they were beginning to see the signs.  
Blights killed the lands they touched. The darkspawn were the carriers, of course, but it almost seemed as if the disease had a mind of its own. Crops withered, plants ceased to grow, rivers dried up, animals fell sick. It was death, plain and simple. Lands with few people were the first to go, but the last to be noticed. The Korcari Wilds could have gone completely unnoticed, the Blight festering deep in the forests, destroying the few Chasind tribes before they could leave and warn other civilizations. Then it would explode outward, scattering across Ferelden like cockroaches fleeing the light. It wouldn’t take long for refugees, sick with the Blight to seek greener pastures, spreading the sickness before the darkspawn inevitably followed them across Thedas. With the number of Wardens being at an all-time low, it was likely that Ferelden would be gone before the other countries could mobilize against the darkspawn.  
Duncan shuddered, pushing the dark thoughts from his mind. He had spared the world such a scenario, he hoped. Once the dreams had started, it hadn’t been too difficult to pinpoint the source of his unease and dread. The Korcari Wilds were unique, in a way. They had not been as vastly explored as the rest of Ferelden, but everyone knew tales of the mysterious Wilds. Tales of bloodthirsty werewolves, savage Chasind, and most certainly the Witch of the Wilds had kept many young Fereldan children awake at night, fearing those creatures from the haunted swamplands.  
Convincing his fellow Wardens had been easy enough. As Warden-Commander of Ferelden, it was his duty to lead them against any darkspawn incursions. If he said this was no mere raid, that it was indeed a Blight, then it was so. They knew it in their bones, in their very blood, even if he had not said as much.  
The Fereldan army, however, was not so easily convinced. King Maric had been his friend and a trusted ally. He would have believed him without a shadow of doubt. His son, the new King Cailan, was not so easily convinced. His adviser, Teyrn Loghain, was even less convinced. He, like many across Thedas, did not trust the Grey Wardens. He believed that their time had passed and there was no danger of a Blight.  
Luckily Cailan did not agree with the Teyrn on every front. He respected the Wardens a great deal, revered them even, likely after reading of their heroic deeds and even hearing of some of them directly from his father. While he did not believe it could possibly be a Blight, he jumped at the chance to prove himself a hero. Loghain was less than pleased, but as the general of the King’s armies, he had to relent.  
Now they have been camped at the edge of the Wilds, in the ancient fortress of Ostagar, for near on a month. They have sent scouts into the Wilds, searching for signs of the archdemon, while the army occasionally dealt with the darkspawn that attempted to move forward out of the swamp. The darkspawn were not randomly attacking, like they would in a mindless raid against the surface. No, they used cunning tactics that could only have been passed to them through the mind of the archdemon. Yet no dragon has been spotted in the forest.  
Even if the archdemon did show itself, Duncan worried that their current forces might not be enough. The Grey Wardens were only recently allowed back in Ferelden. It was twenty years ago that he had met Maric, the young King of Ferelden, and they had grown close while travelling together. Maric knew the threat the Wardens faced, knew what they stood for and fought for. He had been the one to allow their order to return after two centuries of exile. In the two decades Duncan had spent recruiting and rebuilding, he’d been met with great resistances by the people of Ferelden. They did not trust the Wardens, did not believe in them and their purpose.  
Their ranks were simply too low to take on the force of the horde and the archdemon. They needed the numbers from the Wardens of Orlais. Sadly, the war between Orlais and Ferelden was not long in the past and there was bitter resentment and suspicion from both sides. He doubted the men he’d sent for would make it in time if the archdemon was as near as he feared.  
With all this in mind, he was now leaving Ostagar to take a tour of Ferelden in an attempt to gather new recruits. While he knew he wasn’t likely to find much (certainly not anywhere close to the two hundred Wardens he’d called for in Orlais), he was hoping to find at least a few undiscovered warriors to join their cause.

* * *

 

“I’ll start with the dwarves of Orzammar, Your Majesty.” He’d explained this all to King Cailan earlier, before setting off. “From there I will work my way ‘round Ferelden and return to Ostagar. I estimate it should take anywhere between five to seven weeks. In that time, I hope to find able recruits, brave warriors that will aid us against the Blight.”  
He knew playing up the heroic angle would please Cailan. He was a good man, but easily manipulated with the right words. It was no wonder that Teyrn Loghain’s daughter had found a suitable husband in the lad.  
Cailan’s golden eyes were glowing with excitement as he looked up from the map Duncan had been prodding. “Excellent, Duncan! I shall await your return with these new recruits.” He clapped the man on the shoulder and smiled. “Don’t take too long. I would hate to go into battle without you by my side. I wouldn’t want to take all the glory myself, now would I?”  
Duncan returned the smile, shaking his head with a small laugh bubbling forth. “Of course not, Your Majesty. I promise I will return before any grand battles take place. I trust you can handle any skirmishes that should take place between now and then.”  
“Naturally! With Loghain as my general, I have nothing to fear my friend.”

* * *

 

He was almost completely out of the Wilds now. The tree line was clearing a bit and he could see that he’d be descending into a valley that would lead him through a portion of the Hinterlands. From there he would eventually reach Lake Calenhad, skirting around the shore until reaching Gherlen’s Pass in the Frostbacks. The road to Orzammar was reachable through there.  
In the midst of his thoughts, Duncan became aware of a buzzing in the back of his mind. He halted, moving to find cover as his blood began to sing. He could feel the darkspawn nearby, two of them, scouts most likely. It was the farthest out of the Wilds he’d seen them thus far. Not a good sign.  
They were not within eyesight, but they were not far. Not yet. They moved carefully, making no noise that he could detect. They were circling around behind him now, trying to flank him. Knowing this, he moved forward again, acting as if he were not aware of them.  
Soon enough, he saw the bodies. They looked like scouts, some of them wearing light armor while others wore none at all. The missing armor had likely been scavenged by the darkspawn that had killed them. A few of them had been strung up while the rest lay scattered across the ground like logs. The corpses extended from the trees all the way to the edge of a cliff, thrown about carelessly.  
Duncan closed his eyes after taking in the scene, focusing on the way his blood sang and buzzed in his mind. Moving to examine the body nearest the cliff, he felt the darkspawn creeping up behind him, silent as phantoms. He stepped back from the corpse, his eyes glowing like a cat’s as he looked to his left.  
The darkspawn struck; the one on his left lunged forward with its scrap-work blade and Duncan seized it from its grasp, kicking the monster down as he faced the other. It had barely begun to bring down its sword before the Warden struck, slicing it across the neck and stabbing it through the heart when it fell to the ground. Leaving the first darkspawn no time to recover, he turned and kicked it off the ledge, watching it as it bounced its way down before coming to a stop.  
It was then that he saw the storm on the horizon. Lightning crackled across the dark clouds and thunder rolled out to greet him. It was not far.  
Looking back over the expanse of bodies, Duncan worried that whatever recruits he returned with would not be enough, that perhaps nothing would be enough. He feared the coming storm. He could only pray that his gamble would pay off and that it would not be too late.

 


	2. To Them These Streets Belong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The casteless in Orzammar barely scrape by in their difficult lives. For most, the only way to make coin is to join the carta, the gang that runs the underground. Even outside of Dust Town, the segregated ghetto that the casteless inhabit, the carta rule behind closed doors. It is an escape and a trap all at once. Few dream about rising above the rabble and making a better life for themselves and even fewer succeed.  
> Leif Brosca is determined to succeed.

\------------------------ 

9:30 Dragon, Guardian 28th

\------------------------

It smelled like piss.

That was the first smell that made it to Leif’s nose as he reentered Dust Town. He’d been able to get away from the stench for a few hours by running a few messages for Beraht, but now he was forced to return to the shithole he called “home.” After all, Orzammar’s finest couldn’t have any brands stinking up their precious city. Because of _course_ Dust Town wasn’t a part of the same damn city. Technically it didn’t exist. None of them did.

Leif coughed into his sleeve, using it to cover his nose as he tread the winding streets, sidestepping trash, stones, and a few bodies here and there. Sometimes he couldn’t tell if they were drunk, lame, or dead. Not that it mattered. They weren’t his problem.

A nug ran by, swiftly followed by a simple minded dwarf. Sometimes he saw the same guy in a little stone shelter, petting whatever nug he’d caught that day. Didn’t stop him from eating it later, of course. Leif always wondered how people could see the little rodents as both pets and food. Something should only be one or the other, as far as he was concerned. He’d never had a pet, though. That was something for the nobles. No one in Dust Town could afford to care for any creature other than themselves.

It didn’t take him long to reach his own little hovel, built into the stone itself. He hesitated at the door, fiddling with the small swords on his hips. He always hated coming home.

 

Vomit. What a grand change from the smell of piss. Leif’s eyes settled on his mother’s form slumped over the rickety table in the front room. She was snoring, her hair plastered wetly on her face and on the table, her hand clutching a bottle. He didn’t want to know what she was lying in, her face turned to the side with smears on her lips.

Moving quickly from the room, Leif heard voices in the back, signaling Beraht was giving his sister another one of his pep talks. He rolled his eyes, hands moving away from his blades as he drew closer to the room he shared with his sister.

She was seated on the edge of the bed, her beautiful red hair pulled up into an elaborate style, just like the kind the noble ladies wore. Her dress was plain, but made of fine quality linen, adorned with studs, leather straps and belts. Leif had always thought his sister was prettier and finer than any of the noble ladies he’d seen. She didn’t belong in Dust Town.

Apparently Beraht agreed. He’d been grooming her to be a noble hunter for as long as Leif could remember. She’d always been pretty, even as a child. Some of the carta’s thugs had tried messing with her, but Beraht had intervened and set them straight. When he saw how beautiful she was, he’d immediately added her to his group of girls that he trained to attract nobility. If Rica or any of the other girls could catch the eye of a noble, get pregnant, and give birth to a boy, then they would be Beraht’s ticket out of the slums. He was already the head of the carta, so it wasn’t like he was going without food or finery. But he was greedy and wanted more than the life a casteless dwarf in Orzammar could hope for.

“Besides,” he’d explained to Rica and later to Leif and his mother. “If Rica has a noble brat and it’s a boy, you can all live the good life when you’re lifted up out of the dust.”

That had been years ago and now Rica was getting close to the age where the nobles were no longer interested. To Beraht, she was becoming a waste of time and money.

“I can’t keep gambling on you forever, precious.” He was saying as Leif walked in. The crime boss didn’t even spare him a look. “You got a sweet look, something to light a man on fire. But you got to make it count.”

His sister was looking at him now, her eyes heavy with shame. He looked away, but knew she kept her gaze on him. “Please, Beraht. I don’t want to do this in front of my brother-“

Beraht laughed, shrugging his bulky shoulders and finally turning his deepstalker gaze onto Leif, smiling crudely as he asked, “Why not? He knows the slope of the land, don’t you lad?”

Leif ground his teeth, clenching them as he replied. “I thought I told you not to talk to my sister like that.”

That earned him a glare from his boss’s beady eyes. “You told me a lot of things,” the older dwarf’s tone was low, menacing. “Not one of which meant more than a fart in the middens.” Now his tone changed, switching to the one he reserved for business. “Before me, your sister was just another duster. Now check her out!” Beraht’s dark eyes focused on his sister, his pupils dilating as he looked her over. Leif felt his stomach churning with disgust at the way the other man looked at her. “Braids down to here, gold-capped teeth. She can recite elf-poetry and play the string-harp. Every man’s dream!

“All she’s gotta do is find a lord, squeeze out some kid who looks like him, and we’ll all be living the easy life in the Diamond Quarter!”

Rica looked down into her lap as he spoke, shaking her head at her brother as he glared. When Beraht was finished, she rose to intercept Leif before he could do something stupid. He looked into her eyes, green, like moss and just like his. They were the same height, too, both of them taller than their mother. She shook her head at him again, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Please don’t get involved. You know that never goes well.” Her voice was so soft and her eyes were pleading with him. It was not worry for herself, but for him, her baby brother.

Leif took a step back, frowning when he could see Beraht grinning over Rica’s shoulder. He could never stay out of it. He looked away, back into his sister’s eyes. “I don’t like him treating you this way.”

“I’ll treat her however I like, as long as you both eat off my plate.” He grinned, his teeth bright surrounded by his dark beard. “You keep your head down and say ‘Aye’ to any job I decide is low enough for scum like you.” He shifted his gaze onto Rica again, as she turned and stepped in front of Leif. “In return, I put out coin so you can doll yourself up and get a bellyful of some nobleman’s brat. _Then_ you both go free. And I get to join the family and be called, ‘my lord,’ for the rest of the little prince’s life.”

Sighing in defeat, Leif moved around Rica so that they stood side-by-side before Beraht. “So what’re you doing here?”

Beraht shrugged. “Checking on my investments.” His eyes narrowed, focusing on Rica. “And right now, they don’t bear much gold. I’m giving you another week, precious. If you haven’t found a patron, you’re back to sweeping streets.”

Biting her lip, Rica looked away, and then walked past Beraht to her vanity. Looking into the mirror, she seemed to gain strength to say, “But… I have. I’ve met someone.” Her reflection looked nervous, but she kept speaking, even as Beraht moved to stand behind her. “That is, I didn’t want to promise, but he seemed interested.”

Leif’s eyes widened, but neither of them could see the look of shock on his face. If she had found someone, then she had a chance to get out. They all did. He banished the look from his face, following Beraht’s example and walking over to stand behind his sister. She was starting to unbraid her hair, probably add some decorative chains or stones into it before she went out again.

“There, she’s got someone. So get off her back and tell me my job for today.” Leif kept his tone insolent, as always. He knew his boss wouldn’t stop by just to see one of them.

Beraht spun around and Leif almost took a step backward in shock. “Your buddy Leske’s waiting outside.” His grin said that he knew he’d scared the younger man. “He knows what I’ll need from you today. Don’t even _think_ about bungling this job. Your whole family’s on loose sand with me now. And I know you don’t have anywhere else to turn.” He strode from the room without another word, his threat clear, heavy armor clanking as he moved.

When the door slammed shut, Rica stopped toying with her hair, rising from the seat to embrace her brother. They stood there for a moment, both of them always left nervous and uncertain after a visit from the carta leader.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she said, pulling away from him with a small smile.

Leif sighed, letting his shoulders slump. “You always say that.”

His sister laughed, but there was no humor in it. “It’s always true. You always seem to come home when he’s ‘visiting’ us.”

He was pretty sure Beraht planned for things to line up like that. He never missed a chance to flaunt the power he held over people’s lives. “I can’t stand the way he treats us, Rica.” He knew he always said that, especially after the visits. He couldn’t think of anything else, though.

Rica nodded, seating herself in front of the vanity again so she could finish her preparations. “I know, Leif. Just be careful about showing him. You’ve been lucky so far; he thinks it’s funny when you and Leske get vulgar.” Her eyes lowered, looking down at the array of cosmetics before her. “Some of the nobles I’ve met, they’d as soon have your head for speaking your mind. That’s why I didn’t tell you. Beraht’s been warning me since two of his other girls found patrons at Lord Harrowmont’s reception.”

He wondered how anyone would overlook Rica for one of the other poor girls Beraht had snagged with his trap. He’d seen all of them and he knew they were all pretty and talented, but none of them could hold a candle to his sister. He wasn’t even being biased. Leske agreed, too.

“They’ve been getting gifts already.” She sounded dejected as she fixed her hair up in elaborate braids and twists, wrapping them around her head like a crown. “Lord Rousten gave Elsye a surface-silk gown and she’s not even pregnant. Beraht’s getting impatient.”

“I just wish we didn’t have to kiss up to that cave tick.” Leif tried smiling, like it was a joke. It felt like a grimace.

She was silent for a moment as she seemed to be focusing on the array of powders and brushes laid out before her. “You know the other options.” Her voice was so quiet; Leif had to strain to hear her. “Cleaning middens… begging… going to the surface.” She shivered at the last option, shaking her head. “No, unless you find a way to save us all from darkspawn and become a Paragon, we’re pretty much on Beraht’s leash for life.”

Leif had to laugh at that. She couldn’t possibly be serious, he knew, but it was so ridiculous he had to laugh. “Ah, no one like me could ever be a Paragon. C’mon, look at me Rica.” He gestured at himself, reflected in her big mirror – another one of Beraht’s tools for her.

He was tall for a dwarf, just like Rica. They both had the same moss green eyes, the sculpted cheekbones, and pointed chin inherited from their mother. They even shared the same brand on their right cheeks, just under the eye. The similarities ended there. Leif had blonde hair, a matching mustache that curled slightly at the tips and a beard that lightly dusted his jawline, becoming fuller and narrowing to a point on his chin. These features apparently made him look just like his father, or so his mother said whenever she spat that at him. He was bulky with muscle from working jobs for Beraht and fighting for his life. Rica was soft, curvy, and probably didn’t have any scars. Rica had a round, petite nose and Leif’s had been broken too many times for him to remember if his nose had once looked the same. Add all that to the filthy duster armor that he wore – that everyone in the carta wore – and he didn’t exactly fit the bill for “Most Likely to Become Paragon.”

Still, she smiled at him through her reflection. “It wouldn’t be the first time. Gherlon the Blood-Risen was born casteless, you know, before he went to the surface. And he came back and won the throne!” She finished with her makeup, rising from her seat to look her brother in the eyes. Her smile was still in place, stained red, as if by wine. “Many Paragons have humble origins. All that matters is that the Assembly recognizes their achievements. And once they get that vote, they found their own house, and are as noble as if the ancestors themselves had made it so.”

There was a loud snort from the other room and Leif wasn’t sure if his mother was awake and being derisive or just sleeping off her hangover.

His eyebrows rose and a smile pulled at his lips. “That would certainly surprise Mother.”

Rica clucked her tongue at his comment, but returned the smile. “Oh, don’t pay any attention to her. She’s just a bitter old drunk.” She paused, but there was no reply from the other room. “Make something of yourself. Even if it’s just to spite her.”

He wished it could be that simple. Just go out and do something heroic and become a Paragon. Casteless didn’t get options like that. “I just wish I could join the army and fight darkspawn. I know it wouldn’t be glorious and I might even die, but… I just want to feel like I’m _doing_ something, you know?”

“It’s just another way the nobles protect their status, I’m afraid.” Rica shook her head in disgust. “They say casteless soldiers are more dangerous to each other than to darkspawn. That it’s an insult to the smith to let us touch a fine-made weapon. Truly, they just don’t want to insult the Warrior Caste by showing that given the same opportunities, _we_ could lead an army just as well.”

There was passion in her eyes when she spoke of her distaste for the caste system the nobles enforced. She hated it more than she hated Beraht.

 _And she’s being forced to get knocked up by some noble she’s going to hate._ Leif’s thoughts were more than bitter. His sister deserved better. They both did. _Maybe the surface is better to casteless._ He didn’t dare say so. He’d never stepped outside Orzammar. He’d never even gone into the Deep Roads to scavenge, like many other casteless did for a bit of coin. He couldn’t justify dragging his sister into another world, not when she had a chance to get out of the slums. Even if it was with a man she might hate.

“I… I need to get going before Beraht comes back.” He leaned forward, drawing her into another hug. “I’ll see you later, Rica.”

“Be careful. Stay out of trouble, baby brother.” She squeezed him, not minding the dirty leathers he wore. “I’ll see you tonight for dinner.”

“Yeah, of course.” He smiled again, and then left the room. He tried ignoring his mother’s snores, but the smell brought his attention back to her. Cursing himself for what he was about to do, Leif shook her shoulder while gently taking the bottle of lichen malt from her unconscious hand.

A groan crawled out from her lips and she slowly drew her face up from the table. Bits of dried bile flaked off at the movement and she rubbed her filthy face against the sleeve of her dress.

“Whozzat? Why are you bothering me? Rica?” Her eyes were unfocused, taking longer than usual to focus in the dimly lit room.

“It’s me, Mom.” Leif said quietly, trying to hide the bottle in his pack before she noticed. He’d dump it later, but he didn’t dare do so in front of her. Not again.

“Don’t you talk to me like I’m an idiot! You think I don’t know my own kid?” Her green eyes were bloodshot, making her look enraged. “What’re you doing here anyway? Rica said you were finally making something useful of yourself.” She was looking around for the bottle.

Leif snorted, readjusting his bag as he did so. “If by ‘useful’ you mean cracking skulls for a smuggler. Then yeah, I guess I am.” He’d only been working for Beraht for a few months. He’d been considered ‘too young’ until recently. Leske had helped him prove himself to the carta, got him out of doing fights for coin.

His mother nodded, smiling meanly. “What, you thought you’d get a seat on the Assembly? Do what you’re good for.” She pulled another bottle out of some hiding spot and pulled the cork out with her teeth. “Got your head in the smoke. Your _father_ was like that too.”

“At least he managed to get out of here!” Leif snapped in response. He hated how she talked about his father.

She nodded again, taking a swig out of her bottle. “Aye. Left me with two screaming mouths to feed, not a coin on the table.” She looked up at him, the bottle ever present at her lips. “Had to join the clean crew for the smoke vents. Spent ten years in those chimneys, soot a finger hick all over my body. All for you.” Another drink. “So, are you gonna show some sodding gratitude, or do I have to beat it outta you?” She couldn’t even stand.

Gently as possible, Leif held her in her seat while she tried to rise on unsteady legs. Her eyes burned with green fire, as she glared at him for all she was worth. His eyes held only pity. “You have to stop this, Mother. You’re killing yourself.”

“You tell me, just what do I got that’s worth living for?” He didn’t answer her and she looked away at last, her voice so filled with venom before was now dropping to a whisper. “I know you both hate me. I-I know what I done to you, but… It was for your own good. The world’s a cruel place. You… you had to learn that.” Still, he said nothing. Now she glared, shoving him away. “You think you’d be where you are now if I’d let you hide from a few slaps? Everything you are, I made you!”

Leif laughed in her face. He was done for the day. He’d tried. Just like he always did. “You think that’s something to be _proud_ of?”

“I tried my best! They treat us like dust, tell us we’re cursed. How else are we supposed to live? We got nothing!” Her cheeks were flushed red, both from the drink and her anger. Now it seemed all the hot air had drained out of her. She fell back into her seat, hands curling around the bottle on the table. “There’s no way out. For any of us.”

Rica’s words rose into his mind. _Make something of yourself. Even if it’s just to spite her._

“You’re wrong.” He breathed softly. His eyes could burn with that flame just as well. His passion was not misplaced with hatred. “I’m going to make something of my life.”

For a moment, her eyes seemed to really see him. Her face went slack and her eyes drank him in, as if wondering, _Can he be the one?_ It was over in a moment. Her eyes were empty, her face dead. “You can try, but you’ll never get it off you. Dust town, it sticks to the skin.” She took a long draught from the bottle, wiping her mouth afterward and looking at him with pity. “You don’t bleed red enough for them, and nothing’s gonna change that. All you can do is find some way to forget.”

He wanted to scream at her. Tell her she was wrong, about how she’d always been wrong and how they deserved _so much more_. He didn’t.

Rica was standing in the doorway, watching. He’d never seen her look so sad. She said nothing. He left.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the in-game dialogue spam. I wanted to start this story at the beginning, so there's going to be a lot of that until I introduce all of the main characters. I'll try my best to break it up as soon as I can, so please bear with me.


	3. Join the Ranks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things didn't work out the way Leif had thought they would.

\----------------------- 

9:30 Dragon, Guardian 29th

\-----------------------

 

His head was throbbing. Something smelled awful. Everything  _felt_  awful.

Leif groaned, rolling over to vomit. He heaved a few times, making sure nothing was going to surprise him by wanting to vacate his stomach in another few minutes. He cracked his eyes open, surprised by the bright light, before his eyes adjusted. There was a skull staring back at him, its broad dwarven features unmistakable and its bony grin just a little comical seeing as how he’d thrown up all over it.

At least he didn’t have to play Guess the Smell. He was quite familiar with vomit and was now becoming much more familiar with rot. This was not looking to be a good day – or night.

“Hey, are you awake yet?” Leske’s voice was nearby, but not in the same cell.

Leif carefully rose to his feet, turning to see the bars that trapped him. Sidling up against the bars, he could make out Leske’s face behind another set of bars diagonally from him. “How long have we been here?”

The last thing he remembering was revealing himself at the Proving, having defeated all comers who had taken him on while he’d been disguised as Everd. It had taken five guards to hold him down and knock him out.

“About a day or so. Feels like longer, let me tell ya.” Leske laughed. “Man, how sodding hard did they hit you? Did you have to put up a fight like that? They could have killed you, salroka. Then who’d take care of Rica, huh?”

Feeling around his pouches and pockets, Leif was dismayed to discover whoever had stripped him of his possessions had done a damned good job. He couldn’t find any of his usual tools. “I dunno, Leske. I guess I’d have to nominate  _you_  for the job, now wouldn’t I?” Finally, he found a simple set wedged into the sole of his left boot. They would have had to take it apart in a few different pieces to find that set, so he got lucky that they hadn’t thought to check. He set to work on the lock. “How’d you get caught, anyway? Figured you’d run as soon as Everd showed himself.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t  _know_  that he’d shown himself. I wasn’t keeping an eye on the blighter. I figured, hey, you won, so maybe I should get back inside and wait for your glorious return. Guess I shoulda waited around a little longer. One of the guards recognized me and figured we must be working together.” He sighed, shifting around in his own cell to get a better look at what Leif was doing. “They burned three candles to the stump interrogating me about who put us up to this. I think they knew, you know, about Beraht.”

Leif nodded. “Makes sense. This doesn’t look like a typical guard’s cell. Beraht said he’d go for Rica if we’re caught. We need to go.” The lock popped open and just as he was about to open the door, he heard footsteps. Quickly hiding his tools and making sure the door stayed shut, he dropped back to lean against the back wall of his cell.

Two dwarves were headed their way and it was all too easy for Leif to recognize the woman. “Jarvia.”

“Good. You’re awake. Beraht will be glad to hear that.” She said, sounding too cheerful.

Leif had always hated her. Hated the way she was constantly up Beraht’s ass, as if being his second in command wasn’t enough. It was clear to anyone with eyes that she wanted to take his place, but she didn’t have the stones to take him on herself.

“What’re you doing here? Come down to gloat?” Leif could take her on easily if he’d only had his blades. He knew he didn’t stand a chance without a weapon, though, so the only thing he could do was talk.

Jarvia sneered, which didn’t have the effect she wanted, as she had to look up at him. “You caused a lot of trouble today. Beraht lost a hundred sovereigns for Lord Vollney.” Leif snorted and she glared. “The entire Proving was declared invalid, and the Assembly already called for an investigation. You can’t  _imagine_  the state Beraht was in when he told me to get you.”

 _Rica_. He worried for her safety. If Beraht had already snatched her… he could only hope she was out with her patron when Beraht came for her. Maybe that would be enough to protect her. He nervously wet his lips, cringing when he tasted the bile. “Let me talk to Beraht. I can explain-“

“All he needs to know is that you exposed him before the entire Warrior Caste.” She cut him off, smiling in triumph when she saw his fear. “Now they’re asking questions, and as long as you have tongues to answer them, you’re a threat.” She waved for the guard to take up his post. “Enjoy your last night together, boys. Beraht’ll be by soon to make sure you maintain your silence.”

With that said, she was on her way out, leaving the solitary guard behind. Leif knew that this was their only chance. He caught Leske’s eye and the other man nodded, leaping forward in his cell and shouting.

“Guard! He’s escaping! Stop him!” He waved his arms wildly, pointing to Leif in his cell. Leif smiled, crouched in front of the cell door as if he were still picking the lock.

“Stupid, sodding-“ the guard had drawn close to the door, moving as if he were going to strike Leif from between the bars. Leif slammed the open door into the man, knocking him backwards.

Springing forward from his cell, Leif leapt upon the man, grabbing his head and slamming it into the ground, knocking him out cold. Quickly taking the sword and keys from the unconscious man, he moved to Leske’s cell, unlocking the door and swinging it open for his friend.

Leske looked him dead in the eyes and held out his hand. “Give me the sword.”

Leif looked to the guard lying comatose on the filthy ground, then back to Leske. His friend nodded solemnly, encouraging him to hand over the blade. He did. He heard Leske plunge the sword into the man’s chest and felt his stomach lurch again.

He knew death was inevitable. Stones, he’d  _killed_  in the Proving just a day before! Yeah, it was the first time he’d actually gone through with the killing, but it had seemed fair, even if he’d been disguised as someone else. Taking someone’s life when they couldn’t fight back though… that felt wrong.

Leske turned him around, forcing him to see the body. “Hey. If we wanna get away with this, we can’t leave one man alive to tell Beraht what we’ve done. You understand?”

He was silent for a moment, staring at the body. “I know.”

The other man sighed. “Look, I know you’re not big on the whole murdering thing, but we –

“I know!” His eyes were clear now, the doubt gone as if it had never been. “I already started killing when I entered the Proving. If I could do that, then I can do this.”

Leske searched his face for another moment before nodding. “Alright then. Let’s get out of here. Think you can manage until we get more weapons?”

Leif nodded. “There are bound to be traps. I’m pretty good at spotting them. I take out the traps, you take out whoever we come across until we can get more blades.”

* * *

 

The carta hideout was like a maze. Tunnels wove around, doubled back on each other, and there were too many rooms to search. Leif had never been in so deep before. He could only hope that Rica was safe, that Beraht hadn’t gotten to her yet.

“You know, we made a lot of mistakes leading up to this,” Leske said thoughtfully as they looted another roomful of dead bodies and treasure chests.

They were tearing through Beraht’s men like Leif’s mother went through liquor. They were either very surprised or just not as well trained as they had thought. While Leif was new to the gratuitous murder scene, he was proficient in fighting for his life. He’d spent five years doing underground fighting before joining the carta. He’d never killed his opponents, only bested them and protected himself. Some of them came at him later, but he’d never stooped to killing them. He knew they were all just trying to get by.

In fact, it was his rule on no killing that had landed them their first mistake of the day. The lyrium dealer they’d been sent to investigate had definitely been holding out on Beraht. Generally Beraht dealt with people like that by tossing them into lava pits. Leif wasn’t really into that. Which lead to the first mistake of the day.

* * *

They’d found Oskias at Tapsters, likely grabbing a last drink before he high tailed it to the surface. Leske hit him with the usual threats while Leif played the sympathetic. The guy was practically pissing himself with fear when he finally admitted to how much he was screwing Beraht. Leif liked the guy for that, of course. When he offered them some of the lyrium nuggets in exchange for his life, he liked that even more. A little bit of coin could go a long way in Dust Town.

Leske had been against it, for fear of what Beraht would do if they were caught, but he went along with it anyway. He’d never understood Leif’s abhorrence to killing, but he’d always gone along with it when he was with him.

They’d sold the nuggets to Leske’s merchant friend, Olinda, for a pittance. She wouldn’t go running to Beraht, so it was better than nothing and it was more than they’d had before. As far as Leif was concerned, sparing Oskias and stealing from Beraht was worth the risk.

* * *

 

“We shouldn’t have let him go, you know.” Leske was saying as they made their way through the carta tunnels. “We shouldn’t have taken that lyrium.”

“We didn’t get caught,” Leif countered, keeping his voice low. There were likely other carta thugs around, even if they weren’t looking for them. No one had escaped their massacre yet, so it was unlikely they’d been able to get word out to any gangs ahead of them.

Leske snorted. “No, but it was stupid. Things might have gone differently…”

Leif shrugged. “Too late now. Besides, that was just the first mistake, right?”

“Yeah, about that… you shouldn’t have even  _looked_  at that guy, let alone insult him. He could have had you arrested right then!”

“I thought he might have had a job. How was I supposed to know he was a creep?” They were coming up to another door. There was no telling what would be on the other side. They shut their mouths, nodded to each other, then got to work.

* * *

 

The man wanted to buy his  _teeth_. One silver for two, he’d said. Leif looked at him with disgust clear on his face. The man didn’t even flinch, as if what he was offering were perfectly normal and valid.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Leif was aghast, as was the man, judging by his new expression.

“You dare-“ He huffed, his eyes bulging. He cut himself off, pursing his lips and straightening his posture once more. “Do you want it or not? One and a half silvers, and that’s my best offer. You’ll get no better from anyone else.”

“I don’t have to put up with this.” Leif snarled, ready to keep walking.

Before he could take one step, the man called out, “That sounded like a thread, brand. You know the sentence for harassing a resident engaged in legitimate trade is public flogging and a hundred silver fine.”

Leif glowered, staring the man down even as he heard Leske running up to him. “Do you think you could call a guard before I knock you out?”

The man’s eyes bulged again, but Leske intervened. “Gracious apologies, Master. We were just leaving. Right now. Forgive my friend. You know the vent fumes… they mess with the mind. We’re very sorry to bother you.” He was already dragging Leif away, leading him back towards Dust Town and towards Beraht. “Now let’s get back before you land us both in a cell.”

Leif let himself be led along the dusty red path as his mind stewed over the man’s “offer.” “I’ll never understand why they think it’s okay to treat us like that. As if we’re slaves!” Then again, slaves probably had more rights than them. He frowned.

Leske let out the breath he’d been holding as he stopped himself from screaming at his friend. “You’re so… Don’t you ever learn? This is what it is to be casteless, to be a brand. We are less than slaves. How could you  _ever_  think any differently?”

He shook his head, straightening up as he and Leske approached Beraht’s den. “No. Not me. I’m better than this.”

His friend laughed softly, patting him on the head. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, salroka. Maybe one day you’ll really believe that.”

He didn’t need to keep telling himself. He already did believe it. He was getting out, one way or another.

* * *

 

“To be fair-“ Leske ducked and came up with his sword in his opponent’s gut. The other dwarf fell to the ground, gushing blood when the blade slipped out. “I  _was_  right. We both ended up in cells.”

Leif had already taken down his attacker and was now searching the body. He’d already cobbled together a whole new set of armor and even snagged a couple of nice daggers and a short sword. He missed his gear, but he had to admit that his current get up was more practical.

“Yeah, well I was right, too.” He found a pouch full of rough gemstones and added it to one of his belts. “We didn’t get caught. At least, not with the silver from the lyrium.” He frowned. “Although we did lose it by getting locked up.”

Leske chuckled wryly, jingling a bag of coins as he did so. “Yeah, well, I think we made up for that a few times over now.”

He rolled his eyes and finished his examination of the body. There was nothing else of value. His eyes landed on a set of small chests and he wandered over to search them next. “That we did.”

While the first few kills in the tunnels had made him ill, there had been nothing left to throw up. After a couple dozen more bodies, he had stopped feeling bad about it. They were trying to kill him. He didn’t want to die. He had to save his sister. It was as simple as that. His survival was just more important than their lives. He’d feel guilty later if he survived.

Leske clapped a hand on his shoulder, startling him from his thoughts. “You okay, salroka?”

He nodded, pocketing the coins he’d found. “Yeah. Let’s finish this up.”

“Right behind you.”

 

 

Finally, they made it to the end. The last door they opened led them to the man himself. Their entrance was quiet and went unnoticed as they quickly took their places in the shadows. Beraht was giving orders to a couple of his cronies. With luck, they’d learn something useful before killing him.

“I’m cutting the whore free.” Beraht growled, pacing in front of the two thugs. “If that turncoat brother of hers doesn’t know his place, I don’t need precious Rica either.”

Leif’s eyes narrowed as one of the thugs spoke up. “Rica? That the one you got all done up in lace? I been wanting to get my hands on that.”

“Heh. I know what you mean.” His partner nudged him conspiratorially, flashing a grin.

Beraht let out a short bark of a laugh. “She’s yours if you want her boys. And let me tell you: it tastes as good as it looks.” Suddenly, he tilted his head, his deepstalker eyes scanning the shadows. A look of surprise lit up his face with rage as he bellowed, “What in sod all is  _that_  doing out of its cage? Let’s teach this little duster a lesson.”

“I’d like to see you try, you sodding sack of shit!” Leif snarled, spinning his blades before charging to meet Beraht.

He could hear Leske shouting his own challenge to the two thugs, taunting them with insults and drawing them over to take him on, leaving Beraht for Leif. It was for the best. Beraht was at least as strong as two men himself, causing Leif to do his fair share of dodging and rolling. In the past, this very scenario would have scared the shit out of him. Not now. Now, he knew what he was worth and he knew Beraht had to go.

Their weapons clashed, drawing them close to each other more than once, allowing them the chance to use all of their dirty tricks. Leif sustained a few hits, but he could see that he had the advantage. Beraht was too bulky, weighed down by his own weight as well as his armor. It was clear that he had once been a fierce warrior, but a life of criminal luxury had its own price. Leif, on the other hand, was much leaner and all muscle. He was faster than Beraht, more agile, and more cunning. All Beraht had was his strength.

Beraht blocked with his shield more and more and Leif backed him up to the far side of the room. It was clear that he was losing; he just wasn’t willing to give up yet. Leif was hearing a lot less noise from Leske’s side, but he could hear his friend shouting merrily against the surviving attacker.

_Time to finish up on my end._

Beraht charged him, sensing his distraction and knocking him to the ground. Leif took the fall, dropping his dagger and exchanging it for a fistful of sand and quickly tossing it in Beraht’s eyes. The other man’s scream was music to his ears as he leapt up, tackling him to the ground. He brought his blade down on Beraht’s sword arm, grinning when he howled with pain and attempted to buck him off. Leif held on with his other hand, gripping the crime lord’s breastplate and bringing the bloodied steel down on the other arm this time, ensuring that he was no longer a threat.

The look Beraht gave him was one of pure poison. He was screaming insensibly now and Leif didn’t care. He just looked down at the man that had lorded over him and his family for as long as he could recall.  _He hurt Rica. Put her up to do terrible things. Forced me to kill._  His blood was pounding in his ears as he slowly brought his blade down to Beraht’s exposed neck.

He wanted to say something witty. Something to throw back into his face, remind him of who he now faced. He didn’t. He couldn’t think of anything. He let the weight of the sword slice through his enemy’s neck, watched the blood spurt forward, some of it jumping from the pulse in his throat and squirting over Leif’s shoulder. All the while, he held those beady deepstalker eyes with his own until he saw the light disappear.

All of a sudden, his mind was clear and he realized Leske had been trying for his attention for at least a full minute.

“Did you see him there, all, ‘When we’re done with you?’ And you just charged in and sodding  _slaughtered_  him! You have to be the luckiest duster in Orzammar. Beraht’s dead and  _we’re_  standing here! Hail to the sodding king!”

Leske was shaking him, a big grin on his face and he helped lift him to his feet. Leif blinked a few times, shocked, and then smiled back. “Yeah, I guess I am. C’mon, let’s get outta here. I’ve gotta make sure he didn’t send anyone after Rica before these guys.”

They did a quick search of the bodies and the rooms before going through the final tunnel. They were coming out of the experience a lot richer and a lot stronger then they’d gone into it. Leif could almost  _feel_  the strength he’d gained resonating in him. He’d never felt as alive as when he’d been fighting for his life.

During their walk through the tunnel, Leske was still babbling excitedly, his gravelly voice oddly soothing to Leif’s ears. “Hey, could you tell Rica  _I_  killed him. I mean, it doesn’t do  _you_  any good if she thinks you’re the most virile warrior in all the stone…”

Leif’s lips twitched into a smile and he gripped his friend’s shoulder. “Not a chance, salroka.”

“Aw, c’mon man!”

Another door to go through and they entered the shop that Beraht used as a front. The shopkeeper obviously recognized them and was more than a little shocked.

“You’re not supposed to be here! Wait, is that blood? Ancestors protect me!” He ran from the shop, screaming in terror, as if the two of them were darkspawn.

Leske laughed and Leif sighed, fearing that the man would bring the guards down upon them before they could get back to Dust Town.

“There they are! Seize the fugitives!”

Sure enough, once they’d stepped outside they were surrounded by guards. Not only guards, Leif notices, but the Proving Master, as well; reminding him of his third and final mistake, the one that had led to him being imprisoned.

* * *

 

Beraht had sent them to fix a Proving match. It was being held to impress some Grey Warden who was scouting the fights for recruits. All Leske and Leif had to do was drug one guy, Mainar, to ensure Beraht’s chosen warrior would win.

Leif had never been near the Proving Grounds before. Casteless weren’t allowed to attend the matches. They were reserved for dwarves recognized by the Ancestors or some shit. He didn’t get it. He hadn’t learned all of that crap since the casteless didn’t exist to the rest of Orzammar.

He knew about the Grey Wardens, though. They were heroes, legends even. Anyone could become a Warden. Human, elf, dwarf, noble, commoner, even casteless. If one could prove themselves worthy, they could become a Grey Warden and fight darkspawn.

It didn’t take him long to find the Warden. A single human among a city of dwarves was easy enough to spot. He was several heads taller than Leif and he looked incredible. He had a very impressive beard for a human. In fact, he had a lot of hair, some of it was pulled back to keep it out of his eyes. His eyes were piercing, yet warm.  His blue and silver armor looked like some kind of uniform, the breastplate adored with an image of griffons. He’d heard there used to be griffons and that the Grey Wardens would ride them into battle during Blights. He wondered if they still had them somewhere.

Leif had clearly been staring, because the Warden spoke to him. Introduced himself as Duncan and was polite to him even upon learning that he was casteless. He asked him about his search for recruits, hoping that he could learn about becoming one himself, but too afraid to ask him directly.

“The Wardens are always looking for those who have the courage to spend their lives in battle against the darkspawn. It’s rare we find those with both the skill and the will. The best Wardens are ruthless to their enemies, compassionate to their friends, and inspiring to their troops.” He smiled, the gesture very honest on his face. “It’s a lot to look for, but I hope to find it here. And I hope you also may find what you are looking for.”

It wasn’t long after meeting the Warden that Leif and Leske found Everd, the man Beraht had been betting on. He was stone pissed drunk and probably wouldn’t be able to move for at least a day. It was then that Leif had the brilliant idea of disguising himself as Everd. Leske had thought it was grand, as he knew Leif was more than capable of taking on a few noble warriors. Except for one detail.

“Provings are usually a battle to the death,” he’d said to Leif, getting him fitted in Everd’s armor. “What I’m saying is, you’re probably going to have to kill them. They’re going to try to kill you and you’d better hope you die if they do. Otherwise Beraht’s gonna fuck us up worse than death if you blow this.”

Leif had nodded, pulling the helm on and hiding his face. “I can do this. It’s our only chance, right?”

* * *

 

He’d defeated them all, but in the end, Everd had made his way out into the arena and Leif had been exposed.

Now Beraht was dead, but his mistake in the Proving was coming back to haunt him.

The Proving Master stood before the guards, pointing an accusing finger at Leif. “Drop your weapons and walk down slowly. We will use force if you resist.”

Leif looked around desperately, hoping to find a way out. It was then that he saw Duncan stepping up. The human caught his eye and smiled, looking amused. He took that as a sign of encouragement, then dropped his weapons. Leske looked shocked, but did the same.

“Hey, I’m the victim here. I was kidnapped!” Leif exclaimed, holding his hands out to show that there were no more weapons. It probably didn’t help that he was covered in blood.

The elder dwarf was fuming. “You do not speak until the shapers have judged you!”

It was then that Duncan inserted himself into the conversation. “One moment, my friend. Did you not suggest this Beraht might have arranged their convenient escape?”

“Regardless, the penalty for impersonating a higher caste is death.” It seemed the Proving Master was in no mood to be swayed.

The Warden looked at Leif. “If Beraht is as influential as you say, perhaps he also masterminded this Everd’s impersonation. Is that not possible?”

Leif laughed. “Last I saw Beraht, he was suffering from a bad case of Death.”

The crowd that had gathered let out a collective gasp. Leif looked over their faces and recognized his sister in the crowd. He felt relief well up within his chest and he relaxed.  _Thank you._  He didn’t know who he was thanking, but he didn’t care. She was safe.

The Proving Master spoke up again. “He’s dead? Beraht had many enemies, but also powerful allies. They –“

Leske interrupted him, shouting for everyone to hear. “Beraht would have butchered us if he hadn’t killed him first!”

Another gasp shook the crowd, although this one was likely shock that a casteless would dare speak up against a higher caste.

No matter, Duncan seemed impressed. “Your friend has once again demonstrated his courage. We Grey Wardens travel far and wide in search of those with the potential to join our ranks. It seems I have found one.”

Leif wished he could have a portrait of the Proving Master’s face. The man was livid! Oh, if looks could kill.

He locked eyes with Duncan and smiled. “ _Please_  say you’re talking about me.”

The man laughed and took a step forward. “Let me make my offer formal. I, Duncan of the Grey Wardens, extend the invitation for you, Leif Brosca, to join our order.”

He’d remembered his name.

“This man is a criminal. You can’t do this!” It looked like the old timer was going to explode.

Duncan smiled politely at the dwarf, but there was steel in his eyes. “I can and I am. It would mean traveling to the surface lands and thus leaving your people, but it does offer you the chance to strike a blow against the darkspawn and the Blight.”

Leif felt like it was all coming together now. This was supposed to happen. He knew it was. “Seriously? That’s it? I can just… become a Grey Warden?”

“That’s it. I will be honest, it is a dangerous life. I can promise you no guarantee of safety. I can also give nothing in return for these hazards. In joining me, you leave all you know behind.” He looked from Leif to Leske, who he had clearly taken note of as his friend.

He already knew that he was going to join, but he had to say his goodbyes. “I’d like to talk to my sister first, if that’s fine with you.”

“Of course.” Duncan nodded to him. “And I see your friend would like to speak to you as well. Why don’t you see what they have to say before you give your final answer?”

He took the few steps over to Leske, pausing to pick up the weapons he’d dropped. Sheathing the blades, he smiled at Leske. “Well?”

“Those guys must have seriously cracked your skull. You’re not going to turn down being a Grey Warden, are you?” He asked this quietly, his gruff voice sounding strange in a whisper. “ _You_  said you’re better than all this. This is your chance to prove it!”

“I know. I just… I’m worried about leaving Rica.” He knew he was going anyway, but he worried.

His friend laughed, bumping his shoulder with his first. “Well, don’t you worry about that. Ol’ Leske’ll take care of her…”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Leif mumbled, causing Leske to balk. “No, I’m kidding. You’re right. I should go.”

Leske smiled, grabbing him and pulling him into a hug. Leif returned the embrace and Leske pushed him away, grin in place. “Well go back and tell him yes before  _he_  comes to his senses!”

Smiling at Leske’s answer, he then turns to a worried Rica standing beside Duncan. “Rica…”

His sister beamed up at him, tears building in her eyes. “I couldn’t believe it when Ser Duncan said he wanted to recruit you. I was ready to kill you when I heard what you did at the Proving – but it worked out for the best.” She threw herself into his arms. “I’m so proud of you. Imagine! My baby brother, a Grey Warden!”

Leif held her, knowing that he may never see her again. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too. But please, don’t hold yourself back because of me. I think, for the first time, Mother and I will be fine. I spent the afternoon with my new patron. If everything works out… maybe I can even greet you as an equal if you return.” He was shocked to see her cheeks blushing beneath the powdered makeup.

“Is… are you talking about the man you mentioned before?” His heart leapt into his throat. If she was acting like this, then perhaps there was hope after all.

“Yes. He calls me his amber rose. Isn’t that sweet?” She sighed and it was a pleasant sound. “He has a voice like a poet. He has already promised to move Mother and me into better lodging, where he can find me more quickly when he wants me.”

He would treat her well. It sounded like he was wooing her, not like she was wooing him. That was a good sign indeed. He kissed her cheek. “And you’ll be happy like this?”

She nodded firmly, pulling back to show him her smile. “Yes. I am. Truly. I can never make a life fighting darkspawn. But if I can bear a son who makes his house proud, that’s all I can ask.” She returned the kiss on the cheek and smoothed back his messy hair, ignoring the blood. “Go, little brother. Make the world a better place.”

Leif turned to Duncan and felt the eyes of the crowd fall upon them. It was time. “I’m ready.”

The Warden nodded. “Then before these witnesses, I hereby recruit you into the Grey Wardens. Know that you are most welcome.” Then, as if to solidify the instance in the minds of all present, he drew forth a mighty mace and held it out for Leif. “Before we brave the Deep Roads, I would like to make you a gift of this mace, since you have so few possessions of your own.”

Leif took the weapon into his hands, knowing immediately that it was the finest thing he’d ever touched. Duncan continued speaking, loud enough that everyone could hear. “It was once wielded by the Warden Foral Aeducan. I believe he was related to your king. I know you will continue his proud example.” He was letting everyone there know that Leif was his equal. The equal of a Grey Warden, a man who walked among kings and warriors alike.

The Warden’s gaze swept across all who were gathered. “Goodbye, my friends, and thank you for your hospitality.”

Leif followed the Grey Warden towards the Deep Roads, clutching the mace in his hands.  _I’m going to be a Grey Warden_. He shook his head, barely able to believe it.

“Thank you, Duncan.” Leif noticed that he didn’t have to jog to keep up with the human. Duncan was matching his pace to Leif’s.

The man smiled, looking down at his dwarven recruit. “Do not thank me. You proved yourself in front of your people. It is not your fault they cannot see your worth.”

“Lucky for me you can see just fine.”

Duncan laughed. “Lucky, indeed.”

The guards at the Deep Roads entrance recognized Duncan’s armor before they drew close. They were already moving aside, bowing respectfully as they approached.

Leif had never seen the entrance before. It was darker than he’d thought it would be. He knew the Deep Roads used to connect all of the Dwarven cities, but Orzammar was one of the two left. The tunnels were crawling with darkspawn and other foul things.

Looking at the mace in his hands and the legend by his side; he set a determined face. He might not come back a Paragon, but by the stone, he would be known as a hero. He stepped into the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, dialogue is going to start improving after this chapter.


	4. Dream of Waking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Circles of Magi were the Chantry's solution for training mages throughout Thedas. For many, Circles are places of learning; mages can learn to control their magic so they are not a threat to anyone. Others see them as prisons, keeping the mages locked away from the outside world for fear of their power.  
> Nearly every mage in the Circle had lived with their families before their magic manifested. Once they were known as mages, they were taken to live among others of their kind in the Circle, always under the watchful eyes of the Templar Order.  
> While some are content with the way things are, not all are satisfied with their role in the Circle.

\----------------------

9:30 Dragon, Draconis 6th

**_\---------------------_ **

 

 

**_Back for more, my sweet?_ **

_Nereus smiled at the hazy image before him and shook his head._ “Please, darling. Not tonight. I have a headache.”

 _The Desire demon flickered in front of him, running her claw tipped hands all over her supple body. Her fangs flashed in her bewitching smile as she casually sashayed over to him. **I can fix that, sweet thing.**_ _Her whole body was pressed up against him and he could feel her nipples pushing against the thin fabric of his robe. **You know what to do, don’t you?**_

 _The young mage laughed, yet took full advantage of running his hands along the voluptuous form of the Desire demon. She was certainly a sight to behold. Unfortunately she was a sight that he was_ very _familiar with. She had tempted him nearly every night ever since he had come to the Tower. Wicked woman. Er, demon. Did she really count as a woman? She had a name, didn’t she? His hand cupped one of her perfectly shaped breasts and he decided that, yes, she most_ definitely _counted as a woman._

 _Unfortunately… she was still a demon._ “Let you in? Ambrosia, _darling_ , I think it would be the _other_ way around.”

 _At least the demon had the good grace to laugh as well, running her hand along his chest to the neck of his robe. **Mmm… yes. That’s one way to go about it.**_ _Her fingertips scorched a trail down the center of the fabric, tearing it in the center and revealing the pale mage-flesh beneath. Gripping a particularly_ stiff _piece of said flesh, the epitome of Desire licked her lips seductively. **I know you want me. Nereus Elaethan Amell.**_

 _He shuddered at her touch and quietly wished that such an encounter was not so evil. “_ Don’t even think about it, gorgeous.”

_Another not so subtle touch left him moaning in her grasp and Ambrosia smiled wickedly. **Even though it is what you wish? I can give you everything you ever need. Love, companionship… power.**_

_The last word was felt with a trickle of such power being forced inside of him. He could already feel his magic responding to her offer. It was so very tempting… even if it_ was _the same old song and dance. He knew that she could give it to him. No one could stand against him then._

_But no. He could not do that. He knew what would happen. He would have his power for a time, but she would take what was hers in the end. As much as he wanted to be on top of the world, Nereus didn’t want to be transformed into a mindless monster to be commanded by the sultry temptress before him. Nothing was worth that._

_Sighing a bit, he reached down and removed her hand from his dick, gently moving her talons away from the sensitive member. “_ No. Not tonight. Not ever. You know this.”

_Not even a hint of anger flashed through the eyes of the beautiful demon. She simply allowed herself to be put at an arm’s length and smiled. **A girl can dream, can’t she?**_

_Nereus shook his head and chuckled in response to her remark. “_ Not with me, darling.”

 _If a demon could pout, he was sure that’s what she would be doing. Maybe she was. It was just so hard to tell, what with her being ridiculously alluring all of the time. Then, strangely enough, her eyes hardened with serious intent. **Reject me now, if you wish. I will go.** Her words brought him no comfort and she went on to make it even worse. **This game is far from over, Nereus Elaethan Amell.** It was always so _ creepy _when she said his full name like that. As if she already had a small plot of his soul staked out. **You will give me what I want yet. In time, my dear mage. In time.**_

* * *

 

He awoke in a cold sweat to two pairs of cold, armor clad arms ripping him from his warm bed. For a moment he panicked at the sensation and wondered if it was another attempt from his Templar guard dogs to rough him up for the night. Maybe they were catching on to him, maybe-

No. He quieted those thoughts right away and ordered his rapidly beating heart to slow its pace. If that was what they’d wanted they would have silenced him already, drained him of his mana. They didn’t do that, though. They just silently dragged him out of the apprentice quarters past a few pairs of curious eyes and into the hallway.

The Tower was frightfully cold that late at night and he could feel certain parts of himself wanting to contract and hide inside his body. It was not a pleasant sensation in the least. His captors paid him no mind other than to tug his thin body up between the two of them as they hauled him through the stone corridors. When they reached the first flight of stairs, Nereus finally realized what was going on.

The Harrowing. They had taken him from his bed in the middle of the night to bring him to his Harrowing. There had been rumors among the senior mages that his time was coming soon, but when asked about it, they had denied knowing anything concrete. He was twenty-two years old and he had not yet been called for his Harrowing. He was beginning to think that something was wrong with him. Or worse, that they were considering making him Tranquil. But Jowan’s Harrowing hadn’t come yet either and the other mage had been at the Tower before even Nereus had been brought there.

At least now he knew that nothing was wrong. If they’d been meaning to make him Tranquil then they wouldn’t be taking him to the Harrowing Chamber.

“You _are_ bringing me to the Harrowing Chamber, aren’t you?” He asked quietly, just a little nervous with all of the silence surrounding him.

To his horror, the Templars said nothing in response. They didn’t so much as glance at him. All they did was continue forward with their ascent.

Dread began to grow in knots in the pit of his stomach. What if they didn’t go all the way to the top of the Tower? What if they took him off into some room and just outright killed him? They had to know. They had to; there was no other reason for what they were doing.

Time seemed to stretch on as Nereus tried to calculate his chances of successfully taking out the two Templars that held him. He couldn’t very well cast a hex for paralysis with the both of them holding his arms. If he muttered the evocation under his breath they would surely hear him in the quiet of the halls. Sure, their armor clanked about enough to cover most sounds, but they would surely hear him before he got a chance to get the spell steady. No, he would have to wait until they took him to whatever place they planned on killing him in.

His panic was reaching a new height when they passed the very last doorway on the way to the Harrowing Chamber. That meant that the spacious chamber at the top of the Tower was the only stop left.

The apprentice let out an audible sigh with the knowledge that his Harrowing was the only option left to him. Either he would pass the mysterious test and become a full-fledged Circle Mage, or he would fail and be slain by the Templars. There was no other way.

When they passed through the arched doorway into the Harrowing Chamber, Nereus took in the sight with a smile in place. There were several Templars and mages already waiting, as well as the First Enchanter. The two Templars holding him released him, causing him to kneel and catch himself rather than fall flat on his face. It would be a shame to hurt his face.

Dusting his hands on his meager robes, he realized there was a perfectly straight burn that traveled down a good six inches in the center of the fabric, baring the top of his pale chest to those assembled in the room. Awkward.

Clapping his hands together and rubbing them for warmth (normally he would use fire for that, but he didn’t want to spook the tin cans), he said, “Well, I’m glad to see you bad boys haven’t started the party without me.”

One of the Templars coughed to stifle a laugh while the others looked on disapprovingly through the slits in their visors. The First Enchanter simply smiled and motioned for him to come closer. When he did, he noted that one of the Templars wasn’t wearing a bucket helmet. It took him a moment to recognize the man, but he quickly realized he was looking at the Knight-Commander.

 _Maybe_ now _would be a good time to shut up and not patronize the nice Templar._ He sobered up and nodded respectfully.

Knight-Commander Gregoir took a step forward and looked down at the young man before him. Nereus wanted to avert his eyes, but felt like he shouldn’t. So he stared up at the striking figure that just so happened to be the leader of Ferelden’s Templars. The older man never broke his gaze as he opened his mouth to speak. “’Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.’ Thus spoke the prophet Andraste as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the edge of ruin.” It sounded like the same sermon he heard over and over again at the Circle’s Chantry every week. Great. He should have expected that. However, the Knight-Commander wasn’t done yet. “Your magic is a gift, but it’s also a curse, for demons of the dream realm – the Fade – are drawn to you, and seek to use you as a gateway into this world.”

After that little speech, the First Enchanter took up the reigns, locking eyes with Nereus as well. “This is why the Harrowing exists. The ritual sends you into the Fade, and there you will face a demon, armed with only your will.”

For a moment, he wanted to cackle madly at the notion of facing a demon in the Fade. As if he hadn’t done _that_ already. Then he remembered his place and he remembered what would happen if he didn’t act appropriately. “A… a demon. You’re serious?”

The Knight-Commander didn’t seem to like his response. He glowered down at the mage and reprimanded him in a stern voice. “Know this, apprentice: if you fail, we Templars will perform our duty. You will die.”

If words had swords attached to the ends of them, these ones might have done away with the rest of Nereus’s robes. Poor material thing. It had never done anything to anyone. He looked away from the Templar, sharp blue eyes seeking out the stone floor instead. “I know.”

Seemingly satisfied with his meekness, Gregoir stalked away from the apprentice and motioned to a pedestal glowing a vibrant blue in the darkness of the chamber. “This is lyrium: the very essence of magic and your gateway into the Fade.”

Carefully watching his step, he followed the Knight-Commander over to the mysterious liquid metal. He had tasted lyrium once before when his mana had been seriously depleted. Nicked it from storage when no one was around. It had definitely come in handy after one of his troubles at the Tower. Nasty stuff. It looked pretty enough, but it tasted like metal and it wasn’t pleasant. He wrinkled his nose at it and looked up when he heard Irving moving towards him.

The old mage leaned in to him, clasping him on the shoulder in a show of support. “The Harrowing is a secret out of necessity, child. Every mage must go through this trial by fire. As we succeeded, so shall you. Keep your wits about you and remember the Fade is a realm of dreams. The spirits may rule it, but your own will is real.”

Gregoir glared down at the First Enchanter, moving to separate the two mages with a gauntleted hand gesture. “The apprentice must go through this test _alone_ , First Enchanter.” He turned his disapproving eyes to Nereus and moved him in the direction of the lyrium. “You _are_ ready.”

Another moment of panic and indecision rode over him at the Templar’s words. Was he ready? He’d been worrying that he hadn’t undergone his Harrowing, so that must mean he believed he was ready. Right? _Maker, this is far too confusing._ And nerve-wracking. He swallowed thickly and looked away from the First Enchanter to stare into the Knight-Commander’s calculating eyes. “I am.”

Getting a nod from Gregoir, he stepped up to the pedestal that contained the glowing lyrium. He could already feel its power, even before he settled a hand over it. Carefully lifting his hand over it, he felt the power from the lyrium jump into him, stunning him momentarily. He felt his consciousness slipping as the power of the Fade took him over.

He closed his eyes.

* * *

 

When he opened them, he was in a construct of the Fade. It was nowhere and everywhere. It didn’t quite resemble anything he had ever seen before, which was unusual for the Fade. Normally he was in the Tower, or a house, or an open field. Something normal and on the grounds of familiarity. This… was something else.

 _That’s because it’s not a product of_ your _mind._

Wherever that thought had come from, he knew it to be true. He was on unfamiliar territory now. Instead of the usual real-world quality it seemed to hold for him, it was for once a twisted nightmare realm of unholy mockery. Perhaps now he was seeing the Fade in its true form.

Looking around a bit, he found strange statues and a devastated landscape. Everything was the color of parchment and it looked… unfinished, in a sense. It really didn’t look like much fun. Upon further inspection, he realized that he appeared to be in some sort of ruin. There were collapsed columns and stone wreckage lying all about the strange dream world.

Feeling uneasy and strangely exposed, he left the ruins behind and soon found a winding path. “Well, it’s not much for a road, but along I’ll go.” With a frown in place, he started down the path at a leisurely pace. He didn’t know when he would face the demon, after all.

Not far along, a small glowing orb appeared before him. Curious, he moved towards the little light, only to have it shock him. Yelping in surprise more than pain, he raised his hand and blasted it with an arcane bolt before it could do any damage. Twisting his lips in distaste, he looked at the small burn hole that the strange Fade being had left in his robes. That was unexpected. And it certainly wasn’t a demon. He would have to be more wary if even tiny spirits could do damage to him there.

Keeping his eyes peering about for any other unsuspecting dangers, he was particularly surprised when he saw the form of a large rat coming out onto the path to greet him. He had seen other dreamers in the Fade under all sorts of guises, but that was when he’d been out in the open parts of the Fade, where many minds had connected. This appeared to be a closed pocket of the spirit realm, so it was unlikely that there would be other dreamers. It had to be a trap.

The rat looked up at him and Nereus realized that it was talking. “Someone _else_ thrown to the wolves. As fresh and unprepared as ever. It isn’t right that they do this, the Templars. Not to you, me, _anyone_!”

Trying to keep an amused expression from taking up residence on his face, the young mage said, “Um. Yes. You… you’re a talking _rat_.”

The rat snorted. _Snorted._ He hadn’t been aware a rat could even _do_ that. “You think you’re really here? In this body? You look like that because you _think_ you do!”

The mouse stood on its hind legs and in a flash it transformed into a man wearing a mage’s garb. He was a plain looking lad. His hair was a boring wheat sort of color and his facial traits generally uninteresting. In this version of the Fade, his appearance was hazy and Nereus found it difficult to really stare at him for longer than a few seconds. It was someone that could easily be forgotten or mistaken for someone else. He was wearing the robes of a senior enchanter, of all things.

The former rat sighed and shook his head. “It’s always the same. But it’s not your fault. You’re in the same boat I was, aren’t you? Allow me to welcome you to the Fade. You can call me… well, Mouse.”

Nereus let slip a small, wry smile at that. “Hm, thanks. Mouse, huh? Not your real name, I take it. Maker, I should hope not.”

Mouse smiled and shook his head. “No. I don’t remember anything from… before. The Templars kill you if you take too long, you see. They figure you failed, and they don’t want something getting out. That’s what they did to me, I think. I have no body to reclaim. And you don’t have much time before _you_ end up the same.”

“That’s not going to happen to me,” Nereus countered, crossing his arms in defiance. “I’m going to find this demon or whatever and finish this. I know how to deal with their kind.”

His companion’s lips twitched slightly at that remark. “Really? That has been said before. But you don’t know the danger.”

The arrogant mage smiled his most charming smile. “No, trust me. I do.”

“I doubt that. There’s something here, contained, just for an apprentice like you. You have to face the creature, a demon, and resist it… if you can.” He sounded quite desperate, as if he truly wanted him to understand the true danger lurking in the murky contents of the Fade.

With a smile in place, Nereus clapped Mouse on the shoulder and started walking down the path once more. “Right then. Resist the demon, gotcha. I’ll just be on my way then.”

Mouse didn’t stay behind, though. He just jogged after him and cut him off before he could go much further. “Were you even listening to me? There is a _powerful_ demon just waiting to get its hands on you! A young apprentice like you, all alone in an unfamiliar piece of the Fade… This is just a test for you, but a tease for the creatures of the Fade.”

“Look, buddy,” he said, looking Mouse up and down and not feeling particularly impressed by the former mage’s appearance. “I understand. I’ve dealt with a sexy Desire demon for most of my life since coming to this blasted Circle, okay? I didn’t give in to her and I’m sure as the Void not going to give in to whatever is trapped here. Got it?”

The other man sneered, throwing his hands up in distaste. “A _Desire_ demon! They prey upon pleasures of the flesh and ignorant cravings. What you face is powerful, cunning. It is not something to be underestimated.”

Putting his hands on his hips, Nereus lifted a brow at Mouse’s warnings. “Fine. Then if you’re so knowledgeable, why didn’t you make it out of here alive?”

“I…” The plain man looked stricken for a second, as if Nereus had slapped him instead of asked him a question. “I was young and ignorant once. Like you. When you spend enough time here, you learn things. I’ve seen so many apprentices come and go here. So many that didn’t listen, arrogantly thinking they could handle it all on their own. They rushed to their deaths.”

There was something about what he said that struck out at Nereus. He was talking to a dead man. A mage, like him, who had entered the Fade and died in the real world. He did not want to end up like this lost soul. Not yet.

Sighing heavily, he lowered his hands from their resting place on his hips and looked to the other man with compliance in his eyes. “Alright. What should I do?”

Mouse’s eyes brightened considerably, although Nereus still wasn’t sure what color they were. “Keep your wits about you. You would be a fool to just attack anything you see. There are others here, other spirits. They will tell you more, maybe help. If you can believe anything you see.” Just as he had taken human form, there was a flash of light and the spirit morphed back into his former rodent appearance. “I’ll follow, if that’s all right. My chance was long ago, but you… _you_ may have a way out.”

Shrugging in response, the mage stepped around the rat (he really did look more like a rat than a mouse) and started on the path again. “Do what you wish, I won’t stop you.”

They traveled along the Fade path together with minor interferences now that Nereus knew what to expect from the strange little wisps of spirits. As soon as he saw one, he sent out a bolt of energy or a flame. His aim was a bit unwieldy at first, since he was used to using a staff to direct the energy, but he eventually got better.

After walking in silence for some time, he paused to see if Mouse was still with him. He was. The large rodent was just loping along quietly behind him. “You know,” he decided to strike up a conversation in place of the eerie quiet of the Fade.  “I’m actually quite familiar with the Fade. It’s just that most dreamers I come across don’t shapeshift into something like a mouse.”

“That’s because they think a larger more ferocious form will protect them from demons and nightmares,” Mouse explained, sounding amused by the very idea that something like that might actually work. “It’s so much easier to hide, to escape, when you’re small.”

“Huh. Good point,” the apprentice said, taking a bit of stock in the spirit’s words. “Still… you look more like a rat than a mouse with that size.”

Mouse chuckled lightly at the remark. “Yes, well, you’d hardly be able to see me if I were a tiny little mouse. So, this form will have to do for now.” His words grew faint near the end and Nereus turned to see the spirit had paused. “A dangerous spirit is not far. Don’t go near it unless you’re ready to fight.”

They were about to come around a bend in the path where more of the Fade’s dreamscape was opened to them. There was definitely something nearby and it filled the young mage with a sense of dread. Whenever he’d been around the Desire demon he’d been overwhelmed with a sense of lust, but this… whatever it was left him feeling hot rage inside. It was different, powerful. Not as powerful as Desire had felt, though. “Could this be the demon?”

“It could be. I don’t really want to find out, though.” Mouse said, catching up to him again.

He wasn’t exactly up for a fight. Not yet, at least. He wanted to see about finding other spirits that might help him, first. If what Mouse said was true, then he would want to be prepared for this fight. “Let’s not find out then. I want to see about these other spirits you mentioned.”

After rounding another corner, it was obvious where the dangerous spirit lurked. Flames licked the ground in a circular alcove that was separated from the rest of the Fade. Nereus skirted around it cautiously and he felt Mouse at his heels. A dark feeling radiated from the flames and the land it surrounded. He didn’t want to be around there unless he absolutely had to. And time was of the essence.

Soon enough, he found himself being assaulted by more glowing orbs. In the midst of blasting them with more energy, he turned to look for Mouse, wondering if the spirit was being attacked as well. The cowardly thing was hiding in a crevice that almost looked carved into the meat of the Fade. “What the Void _are_ these things?!”

When he had finally finished the last glowing light with a bolt of lightning, Mouse came out of his hiding place with an answer. “Wisp wraiths,” the spirit said, speaking lowly and following along closely. “They were once demons, so I’ve judged. They lost their power or they were destroyed. Now this is all that’s left of them. If something moves, they try to destroy it with what little power they have left.”

Nereus wiped imaginary sweat from his brow and frowned down at his little advice giving rat. “Greeaaat. Just what I need.” He sighed and looked at the burn holes in his robes and wondered if he was receiving the very same markings on his real body. “At least they’re weak.”

The path was straight forward and soon enough, the two of them spotted a spirit resembling a knight of some sort near a dream-like armory. It wasn’t something Nereus would have thought to see in such a broken rendition of the Fade. He heard his companion make a little scoffing noise from down below. “Another spirit this way. It never seemed equal to its name, to me.”

“Looks like a Templar… I’ve never seen a spirit like this before. Only demons.” That sure said a lot about his experience. It probably wasn’t the best thing to admit, but hey, Mouse wouldn’t be telling anyone anything.

Upon approaching the majestic spirit, he had expected it to greet him in some way as Mouse had. Instead, the spirit seemed to be doing its best to ignore his presence. “Excuse me. Hello. Um, spirit?”

At last it seemed to note his company. Its helmed head turned towards him and when it spoke, a booming voice echoed out from the armor. “Another mortal thrown into the flames and left to burn, I see.” From the way it spoke, it seemed the spirit truly had not noticed him previously. It shook its head, as if shamed, before it spoke again. “Your mages have devised a cowardly test. Better you were pitted against each other to prove your mettle with skill, than to be sent unarmed against a demon.”

Raising an eyebrow at the straightforward nature of the spirit, Nereus did his best to suppress his laughter with a cough. “Fight each other? Contrary to what people would say of us, we are more scholars than warriors.”

“That’s for sure.”

“Shut it, Mouse.”

The spirit’s ghostly eyes were glowing through its helm with such fierceness that Nereus was starting to wonder what sort of a being he was dealing with. It certainly wasn’t anything evil, he could tell that much. It was powerful though, there was no doubt about that. “They would have you battle a demon. With magic or weapon, to be the victor makes you a warrior still.” The spirit paused for a moment and seemed to consider his being there to speak to it. “That you remain means you have not yet defeated your hunter. I wish you a glorious battle to come.”

“And here I was told we’d have to rely on the power of our minds to defeat the demon. I’m _much_ more prepared for a battle of wits.” He said this in addition to a dramatic sigh, as if truly disappointed by the outcome. He had known it wouldn’t exactly be a battle of banter between him and the demon. The spirit didn’t seem to be all that amused by his comment, though. “Eh… I see you’re not the joking type. Right. What kind of spirit are you, Ser?”

The spirit in Templar armor straightened its posture even more – if it was possible – and replied in its resonant voice, “I am Valor, a warrior spirit. I hone my weapons in search of the perfect expression of combat.”

Nodding appreciatively, the mage looked about at the many weapons assembled on the racks behind Valor. _Maker’s balls, he even has a forge back there._ Such a normal thing amidst the chaos he was seeing in the raw Fade made him shake his head. It was odd, really.

“That’s a nice selection you’ve got there,” he said, motioning at the various armaments laid out. “Did you create all of these weapons?”

Valor nodded, turning to spread his glowing gaze over his deadly creations. “They are brought into being by my will. I understand that in your world, mages are the only ones who can will things into being. Those mortals who cannot must lead such hollow, empty lives.”

At that last comment, Nereus blatantly laughed. The very idea that non-mages would consider their lives to be empty for their lack of magic! It was quite the idea. He could not imagine life as anything other than a mage, but he would pay dearly to live life as something other than what he was. “Oh, sure. I wish _you_ could tell them that!” He liked the spirit. It sure had its priorities straight, at least. Smiling a bit, he held a hand out and asked, “Would one of these weapons affect the demon? I could certainly use the help, if I’m to believe what I’ve been told.”

The spirit nodded immediately, as if sparing no thought for the question. He already knew the answer, after all. “Without a doubt. In this realm, everything that exists is the expression of a thought.” To prove his point, he drew a heavy two handed sword from one of the racks and held it before Nereus and Mouse. The small spirit leapt back and hid behind the lanky mage who simply stared at the blade. It certainly looked convincing for something that was made out of a spirit’s thoughts. “Do you think these blades be steel? The staves be wood? Do you believe they draw blood? A weapon is a single need for battle, and my will makes that need reality.” Satisfied that he had proven his point, he slid the sword into a slot on his armored back.

“Well… I see you have a few lovely staves over there,” the mage said, trying on that charming smile of his again. “Maybe you could see it in your heart to lend me one?”

Assessing him from beyond his helm, Valor looked to the staves in question before returning his gaze to Nereus. “Do you truly desire one of my weapons? I will give one to you… if you agree to duel me, first. Valor shall test your mettle as it should be tested.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Back up!” He shouted, throwing his hands out in front of him as if to ward off the spirit’s words. “Me? Duel _you_? Ah, look, Valor, pal, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a _mage_. You… kind of look like a Templar.  I don’t think I’d be much of a match for you.”

“I told you he didn’t match up to his name,” Mouse said pointedly, looking between the mage and the spirit.

“Shush, Rat.”

“Mouse.”

“Whatever.”

Valor didn’t seem interested in their squabble. “Mortal, if you wish for my aid, then you will accept my challenge as a true warrior.”

“But I’m _not_ a warrior! I’m a _mage_! I… I don’t _fight_ things.” He tried to plead his case, but the spiritual tin can wasn’t having any of it.

“Do not pretend with _me_ , mortal,” the spirit boomed, eyes glowing passionately. “ _I_ see you. You attack from the depths of lust with trickery and spite. You have a warrior’s blood, but a coward’s heart. You fight from the shadows for fear of judgment in order to see that justice is done. A victim’s justice, yes, but justice nonetheless.” Valor drew his sword from his back once more and pointed it at Nereus who stood just out of reach. “Now, duel me with honor, mortal. Show me your _true_ heart!”

For a moment, Nereus was unsure of what he should do. Run screaming sounded like a good option right then. That spirit in its Templar’s guise knew his darkest secrets and his deepest fears. It could see through him like he was nothing but clear glass. If it knew… then it could very well be within its rights to strike him down.

He ignored the questioning gaze he was surely getting from Mouse. He stepped forward, right up to Valor’s blade. “I accept.”

The spirit withdrew its blade. “As you should, mortal.”

Shaking a bit, Nereus tried to do his best to sound confident. “What are the conditions for this duel?”

“We battle until I am convinced you are strong enough to defeat your demon,” Valor explained, walking over to a clearing well away from its forge and its weapons. “If you do not convince me, I will slay you. Are these rules understood?”

“Gee, that sounds fair,” he huffed, following the armor clad spirit. “Yes, yes, they’re understood.”

Valor spun from its spot in their makeshift sparring circle. “Our duel begins now! Fight with Valor!”

Without a staff he had no real way to direct his power accurately. He would have to use evocations and help for the best. “ _Hiberna occupo!_ ” He cried, shooting his hand out at the spirit and freezing it with a winter’s grasp spell. Luckily for him, his armored opponent had apparently not expected that sort of assault. Hey, he hadn’t said ‘no magic’. Even if it was the quick and dirty kind.

Still, the ice wouldn’t last long. He closed the distance between himself and the spirit then quickly ran in a circle around the frozen being, dragging a foot through the ground of the dream world as he went. With a circle in place, he threw himself to the ground and etched in the Dwarven rune for ‘paralyze.’ He could hear the ice cracking as the momentum of the spirit moved through his spell. He took a breath and whispered, “ _Habitum._ ”

The rune lit up along with the circle and the ice fell from Valor in sheets of cold. Still, the spirit could not move a muscle. Nereus laughed nervously at the situation. “Right then.” Taking a few steps back, he gathered his mana together for an arcane bolt. The shoddy paralyze hex wouldn’t hold for long, but it would be enough for him to get one good shot in. He’d only used a little bit of energy on the wisp wraiths, but he’d need to use more on Valor. After a few seconds, he felt like it would be enough. He twisted his hands and fingers in the right formation for the spell and zeroed in on his target. The blast left his hands in a glimmering white hot bolt of power, plowing into the spirit and knocking it to the ground.

To his shock, Valor still moved to get up. Nereus stepped well out of reach and held his hand out in warning. “I can hit you with another winter’s grasp before you even think about getting over here. Then it’s just rinse and repeat, pal. I can do this all night.”

Yeah, he was bluffing, but it sure sounded good. The spirit seemed to think so, too.

“Enough!” Valor shouted, picking itself up and moving back towards its precious weapons. “Your strength is sufficient to the task. The staff is yours.”

Following the spirit once more, Nereus was pleased when it placed a staff with a bladed end into his hands. “Er, thanks. Are we done then?”

“I believe so,” the spirit remarked, nodding to him. “May you find glory in all your achievements, mortal.”

Testing the weight of the staff in his hand, he deemed it a worthy weapon and bowed before the spirit of Valor. “You as well, spirit.”

Turning away from the Fade being, he started down the path with Mouse at his side. Looking down at the small creature, he let slip a smirk and said, “And that’s how it’s done.”

He swore the little rat had rolled his eyes at him. “You are a master of manipulation and lying.”

Puffing out his chest and twirling the staff in his hands, the mage casually strolled along as if he knew the lay of the land like the back of his hand. “I know. You don’t need to tell me twice.”

As they put more distance between their own selves and Valor, Mouse seemed to grow more nervous with every step. With a flash of light, he was once more a man and walking close to Nereus’s right side as he warily looked about the Fade. “It is dangerous to be out in the open like this. Not that hiding helps much in the Fade.”

The young mage shrugged, toying with the staff in his hands as he walked. “Well, you’re not dead yet. So to speak. I mean, you seem to have done well enough here to survive.”

He winced hard at the ‘dead’ comment and wondered if Mouse would take offense to it. It had just slipped out before he could even think it through. For him, it was just a normal thing to throw out there in an awkward situation.

Apparently Mouse didn’t look intent on taking his words to heart. “I have, but at a cost. I can only hide for a short time.”

They continued down the path, passing a few warped ideas about the real world here and there, as well as a few of the wandering wisp wraiths. With Valor’s staff, he was able to accurately dole out his spells, making quick work of the weak spirits. Mouse seemed to know that he could handle it as well, since he didn’t revert to his rodent form and hide at the sight of the things. Why wasn’t he helping, anyway?

“Mouse, if all you do is run and hide from danger, how _have_ you survived out here?” He thought it was a valid question. The former mage spoke about helpful spirits and the great dangers of the dream world, but all he did was hide and occasionally offer half-baked advice.  How was it that the cowardly spirit avoided becoming a demon’s snack? “How long have you _been_ here?”

The spirit looked ashamed, turning his face away to look out at the surreal landscape as he quietly spoke. “I missed my chance. So I became small. Unnoticeable. I hide from the bigger things, learn from the smaller things.” He looked up into the hazy sky, his eyes searching out the form of the Black City as he did so. “There are places you can hide where the shadows go on forever. You stay there long enough, and the shadows begin to creep inside of you…” He shook his head and looked away from the ever present landmark of the Fade. His eyes, whatever color they were, looked haunted and tired. “I… don’t know how long it’s been. Forever, maybe.”

 _Well, that didn’t sound suspicious. Particularly not after hearing about how there was some sort of cost to his muted presence._ Not wanting anything to show on his face, Nereus stoically looked ahead. “The Templars simply killed you? They didn’t wait to see if you turned into an abomination?”

Mouse shrugged, clearly not having an answer for what the Chantry dogs did. “That is what happens to the physical bodies of apprentices who fail. They’d kill every mage if they could. All the Templars _see_ in magic is danger.” His voice bore the weight of years of bitterness and strife. It was all too clear what he thought of the Templars and their participation in the Circles around Thedas. His eyes burned with anger as his voice rose above its normal mellow drawl. “And they _don’t_ just use the Harrowing as an excuse. If you learn a _little_ too much, they’ll label you a blood mage and kill you on sight!”

His eyes were pleading for him to understand and Nereus couldn’t deny that what the spirit said was true. He’d known so many mages in the Circle that had lost their lives based on accusations of blood magic. Never had he known of any of the rumors to be true. Mages like him, _good people_ , were slain out of fear, ignorance, and jealousy. Worse things happened if they weren’t just outright killed. He knew that well enough. More than once he had contemplated ending it all, but he had never given in. Death was just another demon, another temptation. He would not give in.

“True mages,” Mouse continued, his voice pierced through Nereus’s thoughts like a knife, drawing his attention back to the spirit. “Like _you,_ know that the power you hold is the gateway to greater things. A potential they can _never_ hope to contain!”

“You’re right,” he heard himself saying, without even thinking. This was at least something he agreed with. He looked back at Mouse and wondered what sort of a man he had been before becoming trapped in the Fade. “What they do to us is wrong. The way they control us… It’s not right.”

His companion nodded his agreement, speaking more fervently now that he knew that he had the attention he wanted. “No. It’s _not_. The _Templars,_ and the _Chantry,_ and _all_ of it. They’re all paranoid. The lot of them.” If he didn’t know any better, he’d say that Mouse was a bit paranoid himself. Having lived in the Circle for most of his life, though, he knew that the other man was right, again. “They have no right to treat _true_ mages this way! You could stand up to them! _If_ they gave you the chance.” All of a sudden, the light in his eyes and words died out and Mouse turned his head away, speaking in his downtrodden voice once more. “You… you don’t want to lose yourself here. Being nothing would be easier than this.”

The rally Mouse had started in him died down immediately at those broken words. “Do you… want to die? You sound miserable.”

For a moment, the spirit said nothing. He just stared down at his hands, as if he didn’t know what to do with them right then. Shaking his head again, Mouse shivered as a flash of light enveloped his body and he returned to his rodent form. “I… think you should finish your Harrowing.”

Taking Mouse’s cue to move on, Nereus followed the winding path in search of more spirits. There had to be more that could aid him. Valor couldn’t be the only one, after all. Surely Mouse would have said so if there were no more to see. He didn’t want to waste any more time, after all. Speaking of spirits, he was shocked when his ears were assaulted by, of all things, the howling of wolves. He strained his eyes through the murk of the Fade to see a whole pack of glowing white wolves rushing towards him with snapping jaws at the ready.

“Mouse!” He knew the little coward was hiding, but an update on the beasties would be nice.

He heard the other man’s voice from a little ways off, to his left. “They’re spirit wolves! They’re not demons, just spirits that are taking on an intimidating form. Treat them like normal wolves!”

“Gotcha,” he said, shooting out a fireball that blasted the pack apart with ease. The spirits regained their footing and started at him again as he shot out arcane bolts and the occasional winter’s grasp. One of them leapt at him and was close to throwing him down when he slashed at it with the staff, knocking the spirit beast away with a yelp. He whirled around to face the wolf, just in time for it to latch onto his leg with its all-too-real and sharp teeth. He cried out in pain as he blasted it with a bolt of lightning and scorched it into dust.

Panting for breath through his pain and fear, Nereus took a look at his leg and groaned when he saw the blood. “Maker, this had better _not_ be making a mark back in the real world!”

Mouse came running up to him in his human form, juggling what looked like glowing orbs of light in his shaking hands. “Nereus! Here, take this.”

“What is it?” He asked, reaching for the shimmering orb with a tentative hand. The energy that radiated from the item was soothing, calm, and nice. He took the strange sphere from Mouse and moved it over to his injured leg. The light pulsed, letting out more of its positive energy, before flowing over his leg and enveloping it in a cool, blue light. He watched as the wound knitted itself together in quick, fluid movements, leaving nothing behind but the stain of blood.

“Thank goodness,” Mouse said, dropping to the ground beside him. “That could have made walking difficult. Are you alright?”

The panicked mage nodded, staring at his now healed leg. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

Mouse smiled and stood, offering him a hand to help pull him to his feet, which he accepted. “Oh, good. I’m glad. Here,” he said, handing him the rest of the lights, “You should hold on to these. Just in case.”

He pocketed the shimmering orbs with a thankful smile. “I will. Thank you.”

“Be cautious. There is… another spirit here. Not the one hunting you, but still.” He said this as he looked out at the path ahead of them, his eyes cautious.

Nereus followed his gaze and made out a large, dark shape in the distance. It wasn’t moving towards them, so that must be a good sign. Looking down at Mouse, who had returned to his smaller appearance, he said, “Let’s go.”

After the encounter with the spirit wolves, his faith in the helpful spirit had solidified, but for a strange, niggling feeling in the back of his mind. His long buried paranoia was screaming at his brain to wake up, but he felt fine. He and Mouse shared a lot of the same views, views that he would be terrified to express to any other mage for fear of the Templars finding out. The spirit was a coward, but he was kind and helpful. He had refused to let Nereus go off into the raw Fade on his own, tagging along even when the arrogant apprentice had preferred to go it alone. He had proven himself to be useful and good natured, even if he possessed such rage against the Chantry and its ilk. Something like that was normal for a mage who had been _killed by a Templar_. He couldn’t exactly blame the poor guy.

Coming to the edge of the Fade island, they come across a rather prickly looking bear lying on its side in the path. Looking up, the spirit eyed them with great boredom, yawning before speaking in a low, drawling voice. “ ** _Hmm… so you are the mortal being hunted? And the small one… is he to be a snack for me?_** ”

Clearly shaken by the beast’s ‘snack’ comment, Mouse took the opportunity to return to his human form once more. He stood just a little behind Nereus, allowing him to be the one to face the creature. “I don’t like this. He’s not going to help us. We should go….”

The thorny looking creature heaved himself to his feet, causing both Nereus and Mouse to take a few steps back in fear. The strange being looked more than capable enough of tearing them to shreds. He sniffed at them, sighing a bit and saying, “ ** _No matter. The demon will get you eventually, and perhaps there will even be scraps left._** ”

Seeing as the bear-thing was apparently too lazy to snatch them up all on his own, Nereus took a brave step forward. He would not cower in front of his opponent. If the spirit could help him, then it would be better for him to appear capable in front of it. “What do _you_ know about this demon?”

The creature laughed and it sounded like it was drowning. It was the most eerie laugh that the mage had ever heard. “ ** _I know that you will fail your test and he will eat you. Begone! Surely you have better things to do than bother_ Sloth _, mortal. I tire of you already._** ”

Now _that_ was some interesting news. “Sloth? Aren’t you one of _the most powerful_ demons?”

Sloth let loose another sigh and dropped back onto the ground, curling up in his large bear form again and laying his head on his paws. “ ** _Flattery… will not work on me, mortal. I am a spirit of Sloth, a creature of the Fade… unlike yourself. Mortals are ever the visitors here._** ” He yawned again and looked up at the two of them with hooded eyes. “ ** _Still, you serve your function. Only mortals like yourself are truly annoying._** ”

“Ridiculously handsome, talented, and charming?” He asked, earning a groan from Mouse behind him.

It was just his luck that Sloth didn’t find him to be funny, either. “ ** _Fool. You are… aware. A mortal with power and will. The sort of creature that some spirits…_ hunger _for._** ” To make his point, he greedily licked his chops, eying Nereus like a cat would a mouse. Or the way a bear would look at a delicious, frail human. “ ** _I might be inclined for such a meal, myself. It would be interesting to see the mortal world through your eyes, live inside your form… but I am disinclined to begin such a struggle._** ”

Biting back another sharp retort, the mage considered a more subtle approach. “Gee. Lucky me. So, _you’re_ a demon. _I’m_ supposed to fight a demon. But _we_ are not fighting.”

Sloth shrugged his shaggy bear shoulders. “ ** _I am a demon… as you mortals might term it. But not all demons are_ demon _. Worry about the one hunting you._** ”

That wasn’t confusing. Not at all. Nereus put one hand on his hip and used the other to strike the ground with his staff. “Well if you’re not a _demon_ -demon… then I need help defeating the one hunting me.”

His stance wasn’t very moving, so it seemed. Sloth waved a paw at him in response. “ ** _You have a very nice… staff._** ” He yawned, closing his eyes as he spoke. “ ** _Why would you need me? Go, use your weapon since you have earned it. Be_ valorous**.”

Creepy. Apparently he knew about his duel with Valor. That implied that he knew about everything that had happened since the mage had entered the Fade. Yet Nereus could not recall ever seeing the large beast that Sloth was masquerading as. Then again, a powerful demon like Sloth could probably turn into any sort of animal or being that he wished to. He could have been anywhere. That was _not_ a comforting thought.

Mouse tugged on the sleeve of his robe, startling him from his thoughts. “He looks powerful. It might be possible that he could… teach you to be like him.”

A scoffing sound was heard from Sloth. “ ** _Like me? You mean teach the mortal to take this form? Why? Most mortals are too attached to their forms to learn the change._** ” The bear paused, as if considering and opened his eyes to stare at Mouse. “ ** _You, on the other hand,_ little one, _might be a better student. You let go of the human form years ago._** ”

“Me? I… don’t think I’d make a very good bear. How would I hide?” The spirit asked softly, looking to his companion for support.

The mage rolled his eyes and pulled the other man forward, forcing him to stop cowering behind him like he was a shield. “ _You_ wouldn’t have to. If you looked like that, you could take on most spirits just fine.”

“ ** _It’s true. I am quite powerful in this form… when I wish to be._** ” Sloth agreed, taking some credit for his commanding appearance.

“Mouse,” Nereus spoke gently to the spirit, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You could help me fight the demon. No more running.”

The other man’s eyes looked to the hand on his shoulder before looking back to Sloth. “I… welcome the opportunity, if it is my choice. The mages in the Tower are quick to volunteer others, as you well know. I’ll try. I’ll try to be a bear. If you’ll teach me.”

“ ** _That’s nice. But teaching is so exhausting. Away with you now._** ”

“What?!”

Mouse sighed, hanging back again. “I told you he wasn’t going to help us.”

Frowning, Nereus took another step forward, towering over the massive bear on the ground. “Teach him. You said you could teach him, so prove it.”

Wearily looking up at the young mage, the demon grunted and closed his eyes again. “ ** _You wish to learn my form, little one? Then I have a challenge for your_ friend _: Answer three riddles correctly and I will teach you._** ” Opening his eyes, he gazed at the two of them with undisguised hunger. “ **Fail _, and I will devour you_ both _. The decision is yours._** ”

Not willing to back down yet, Nereus smiled and said, “Riddles? I accept your challenge, Sloth.”

“What? No! Nereus, Sloth is no fool,” Mouse pleaded, reaching for the young man to pull him away from the crafty demon. “You cannot hope to win against him!”

“Hands off,” he said, brushing away his partner’s attempts. “I can do this. I’m no slouch, myself.”

“ ** _Truly? This gets more and more promising._** ” Sloth picked himself up from the ground and stared at Nereus with barely concealed gluttony in his bear-like eyes. “ ** _My first riddle is this: I have seas with no water, coasts with no sand, towns without people, mountains without land. What am I?_** ”

“As if I haven’t stared at such a thing millions of times,” the mage sighed, thinking back to when he had hoped he could escape the Circle to go live with his mother and father again. That would never happen now and he knew it. “A map.”

The bear grunted in annoyance. “ ** _Correct. Let’s move on._** ” He paused, considering his knowledge before continuing. “ ** _The second riddle: I’m rarely touched, but often held. If you have wit, you’ll use me well. What am I?_** ”

This time the apprentice laughed. “Oh, you’re asking the _wrong_ person a riddle like this! My tongue. I’m quite good at using it for a lot of things. I can’t honestly say that it’s _never_ been touched.”

“ ** _Yes, your_ witty _tongue._** ” The demon growled in disdain. “ ** _Fair enough. One more try, will you? Often will I spin a tale, never will I charge a fee. I’ll amuse you an entire eve, but, alas, you won’t remember me. What am I?_** ”

Nereus smiled, looking down at the large bear and shaking his head. “Nightly do I come across such a thing. Clever, but thoughtless. A dream.”

Huffing in displeasure at his defeat, Sloth nodded his large head. “ ** _You are correct. Rather apropos here in the Fade, no?_** ” Looking to Mouse again he laid himself on the ground once more. “ ** _But you’ve won my challenge and proven yourself an amusing distraction. So, I shall teach you my form. Now listen carefully…._** ”

Wary of any tricks, Mouse took small steps away from Nereus, moving closer to the demon that lay on the ground before them. Sloth lifted his head, inviting the former mage to come just a little bit closer. Sloth whispered a few words under his breath for only Mouse to hear. It was too quiet for Nereus to pick up, but he didn’t care to learn anyway. How often would he need to turn into a bear in the Fade? Only a few minutes later did the two spirits separate. When they did, Mouse stepped away and with a flash of light, he changed forms from human into bear.

He looked unsteady on his four paws, but he lifted his head to look at Sloth for approval. “Like this? Am I a bear? It feels… heavy.”

The demon yawned and shrugged. “ ** _Hmm. Close enough. Go, then, and defeat your demon… or whatever you intend to do. I grow weary of your mortal prattling._** ”

With his promise held, Sloth curled up on himself and returned to lazing about as he had before. It was an even better dismissal than his words, so Nereus and Mouse, still in his new bear form, turned from the old spirit and started walking back the way they had come. Smiling and feeling more than a little victorious, the mage looked down at his companion and said, “Well then, Mouse… or should I call you Bear?”

The bear at his side snorted. “Mouse will still suffice for now, thank you.”

“Right then, Mouse. I think this is all the help we’re going to get.” He had defeated Valor in combat and received a staff for his prize and then defeated Sloth in a battle of wits. That should be enough to prove that he could take on this mysterious demon. “I think I’m ready to tackle this demon.”

“Then lead the way, O fearless leader,” Mouse replied, walking at his side.

They would face the demon beyond the circle of fire that they had passed not long after Nereus had met Mouse. He was only a little surprised when they were attacked on the return journey by a few wisp wraiths and another pack of spirit wolves. This time, however, he wasn’t alone in the fight. Mouse actively joined in, attacking the wolves head on and tearing the spirit beings to glowing white shreds. All of their enemies were easily dealt with in no time at all and they were back on the path to fight the demon.

The ring of flames greeted them by flaring brightly at their approach. Cautiously entering the arena, the mage and the spirit kept their eyes trained on the fiery blob that was currently clawing its way out of the flesh of the Fade. The ring of fire closed the gap behind them, leaving them trapped with the creature that looked like it was made of running lava.

“And there is the Spirit of Rage.” Mouse said, his voice sounding far more ominous than usual.

The Rage demon’s dark laughter bubbled up from its fiery shape. It wasn’t an attractive sound at all, Nereus decided. “ **And so it comes to me at last.** ” The demon’s voice was low and full of unpleasant things. “ **Soon I shall see the land of the living with your eyes, creature. You shall be mine, body and soul.** ”

“Rage? That’s it? I’m disappointed,” Nereus said, frowning as he took in the creature before him. He had resisted the promise of Desire for years! He’d just (sort of)defeated a demon of Sloth! Now he was faced with one of _Rage_? “Every apprentice knows that Rage is the lowest rung on the demon ladder. This is no _challenge._ Besides, it’s two against one. You really want to fight us both?”

The demon chuckled and although Nereus knew it to be no true threat, he still found the action to be disturbing. “ **Amusing. Have you not told it of our… _arrangement_ , Mouse?**”

Mouse quickly shape-shifted back to his human form to properly glare at the spirit of Rage. “We don’t _have_ an arrangement! Not anymore!”

“I knew something was wrong,” Nereus grumbled under his breath, shooting Mouse a look of distaste as he leveled his staff at the Rage demon. “Mouse, don’t you even _think_ about betraying me!”

Fear was plain in Mouse’s eyes when he looked at Nereus. “I… I won’t! I would never-”

Rage interrupted their moment with another creepy noise. “ **Aww. And after all those wonderful meals we have shared? Now suddenly the mouse has changed the rules?** ”

“I’m not a mouse now. And soon I won’t have to hide! I don’t need to bargain with _you_!” Mouse shouted, shifting back to his bear form.

The demon laughed again and called forth a host of wisp wraiths with a swipe of its fiery claws. “ **We shall see…** ”

The Rage demon charged forward, targeting Nereus specifically. The mage whipped the staff out towards the demon, focusing his mana to produce the spell for winter’s grasp and pinning the fiery being within the ice. He spun, deflecting one of the wisp wraiths and sending it sailing through the wavering air. He caught Mouse dealing damage on the other wisp wraiths as he turned back to face Rage. The demon broke free of the ice and came at him again, sending sparks and fire out at him. He winced as the embers burned his skin, but sent out a bolt of lightning before trying his paralysis hex again. The hex caught the demon, holding it in place while he struck out with another assault of ice. The cold attacks seemed to deal a lot of damage against the demon and with one more strike, the being of Rage let loose a terrible cry before disintegrating into flames and vanishing.

Letting out an unsteady breath, Nereus leaned against his staff and closed his eyes. He wasn’t that tired, really. He was just surprised. The battle had gone so smoothly. With the dark energy rolling all around him he had thought the Rage demon might be stronger than average, but that had obviously not been the case. He heard the transformation behind him and turned around to see Mouse standing behind him in his human form with a smile on his face.

“You did it. You actually did it!” The spirit cried, joy tinting his words colorfully. “When you came, I hoped that maybe you might be able to… but I never really _thought_ any of you were worthy.”

That feeling that something wasn’t quite right with Mouse was never more prominent before than it was now. Nereus frowned, drawing his staff up and pointing it at his former companion. “Their names.”

“What?” Mouse asked, his voice shaking as he took a wary step back from the mage. “Nereus, they were not as promising as you. It was a long-”

“Tell me the names of the ones you betrayed before me.” He gritted his teeth, trying to think about what else was bugging him about the former mage.

“I… I don’t remember their names.” The spirit confessed, looking down at his robes and fiddling with the material. _His robes_. Nereus stared at the pattern and realized once more that Mouse was wearing the robes of a senior enchanter of the Circle. _But he was an_ apprentice _when he was killed. Or so he said…_ “I don’t even remember my own name. It’s the Fade, and the Templars killing me, like they tried with you.”

“They haven’t tried with me!” Nereus shouted, keeping his staff pointed at the other man. “Not yet.”

“Nereus, please-”

Power crackled at his finger tips, moving towards the staff in his hand. “Speaking of which, _Mouse_ … When exactly did I tell you _my_ name?”

The spirit froze, no longer trying to move forward. “You… your name? When we met, of course. Don’t you remember?”

He wanted to remember. Did he introduce himself to the spirit? Maybe he had… He shook his head and took a step away from the spirit. “No. I didn’t. Now tell me… what do you want?”

“You defeated a _demon_. You completed your test. With time, you will be a master enchanter with _no equal_.” Mouse’s voice was starting to sound obsessive and Nereus didn’t like that at all. “And… maybe there’s hope in that for someone as small and as… forgotten as me. If you want to help.” The man smiled, but this smile was unlike the others he had given. This smile exposed cleverness formerly unseen in the spirit. “There may be a way for me to leave here, to get a foothold outside. You just need to want to _let me in_.”

The mage shivered, tightening his grip on the staff Valor had given him. Those words were all too familiar. No wonder the Rage demon had been so easy to defeat. “The Spirit of Rage was not my true test after all. Thank the Maker. I was starting to think someone didn’t consider me a true challenge.”

Mouse looked taken aback by his words. “What? What are you… Of course it was! What else is here that could harm an apprentice of your potential?”

“Flatter me all you like, _demon_ ,” he spat, getting ready to cast a spell if necessary. Now he knew why Mouse had never seemed worth remembering. His appearance was a guise, a mask put on by a demon to hamper and confuse him. He was powerful indeed. Everything leading up to this moment must have been carefully planned out. He would not let his guard down. “What are you _really_?”

The spirit stopped, pausing and tilting its head in a foreign way that no human ever would. His appearance began to morph and shimmer before Nereus’s very eyes. Soon enough, a demon he had never seen before towered over him in its true form, exuding might, glory, arrogance.

 _Pride_.

“ ** _You_ are _a smart one._** ” The Pride demon said, its voice soft and condescending. “ ** _Simple killing is a warrior’s job. The real dangers of the Fade are preconceptions, careless trust…_ pride _. Keep your wits about you, mage._ True _tests_ never _end._** ”

 


	5. What About Me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nereus learns about his new status in the Circle and meets new people.

\----------------------

9:30 Dragon, Draconis 7th

\----------------------

 

**_You did well, my sweet._ **

_Gentle laughter rained down on him in the darkness. Nereus searched for the sound, but could see nothing. He wondered if he was still somehow trapped in the raw Fade, the construct that the Circle had created for the Harrowing._

_Ambrosia’s voice was carried to him on an invisible breeze. **No, my love. You are home. Their hold on you is gone.**_

_He sighed, and his breath formed a light. Finally, he could see. Nereus was seated at a table in a modest home in the Hinterlands. He knew his ‘parents’ would be outside, tending to their little vegetable garden. Ambrosia was seated across from him, her form that of a luminous young noblewoman. She smiled at him, but it was the smile of a demon, not a human._

**_Do you like it? I’ve been waiting to show you this._ ** _Her voice was the voice of a million men and women, whispers buried beneath whispers, packaged into the most beautiful voice in the Fade._

_He wondered which voice was hers, if she even had one._

_“_ I need to wake up _.” He informed her, rising from the table and ignoring her question._

_The demon frowned, her pretty human face distorting. **You’ve only just arrived. It would be rude to go so soon.**_

_The mage smiled serenely, reaching over to cup the demon’s lavender flushed cheek. “_ Show me next time. _”_

_Rubbing her cheek against his hand, Ambrosia let out the loveliest sigh. **Next time you’ll wish you’d stayed.**_

* * *

 

Nereus woke surrounded by heavy blankets. Untangling himself from the layers of material, he sat up in the glowing candlelight, staring dumbly and trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

He was back in the apprentice quarters. The massive room was mostly empty, but a few other mages were watching him quietly from the doorway. They vanished when his eyes landed on them and he frowned.

“Are you alright?”

Craning his neck around to his other side, he saw Jowan was watching him. The older mage looked worried and leaned forward, helping him remove the rest of the blankets so he could rise on unsteady feet.

He looked around, not answering his friend’s question, wondering if they were being watched by more than just the other apprentices.

Jowan’s lips curved into a worried frown. “Nereus, please, say something.”

“Something,” the younger man quipped, satisfied that there were no templars creeping in the shadows. He dropped back onto the lumpy mattress and groaned. His robes were still mussed from being dragged out of bed for the Harrowing. Not to mention Ambrosia’s little stunt in the Fade before that.

 _How could she have done that?_ A trickle of fear coiled up in his gut like a snake. He hadn’t thought the Desire demon could influence anything outside of the Fade without a host. Perhaps she was more powerful than he originally thought. He’d have to ask her about that the next time he went to sleep.

“I’m so glad you’re all right,” Jowan was saying, moving to sit beside him on the bed. The other man was wringing his hands, obviously nervous. “They carried you in this morning. I didn’t even realize you’d been gone all night. At first I thought…” his lips flattened into an angry line and he hesitated.

“Don’t worry,” Nereus assured him, reaching out to pat him on the back. “It was just the Harrowing. No big deal.”

The dark haired mage let out a coarse laugh. “Oh, just the _Harrowing_ he says.” Jowan shook his head. “I’ve heard about apprentices who never come back from Harrowings. Is it really that dangerous? What was it like?”

“It was… harrowing.” He smirked, jumping up from the bed and stretching. He needed new robes. Since he was officially no longer an apprentice, he would be getting a change soon.

A snort was what he got for a reply. Some people didn’t have an appreciation for the art of puns.

“No, really.”

He sighed, knowing that Jowan wanted to know what it involved. The older mage hadn’t gone for his Harrowing yet and he was scared, just like Nereus had been. They were always scared. Rightfully so. Not because of the Harrowing itself, monstrous as it was. It was because of what could happen if they weren’t considered _fit_ for a Harrowing.

Tranquility was no joke. Death was preferable, but the Tranquil couldn’t even make the choice to die. It was both ghastly and tragic that the practice was considered an alternate solution to the Harrowing.

“Nereus,” his friend prompted him, his eyes begging him for answers, for reassurance.

He sighed again, looking away to see the doorway was edged with gaping apprentices again. “Look, it was a test of ability. That’s all I’ll say.”

That wasn’t enough to content Jowan. “There must be something more. Otherwise they’d tell the apprentices what’s involved.” He let his breath out in a worried moan. “I _know_ I’m not supposed to know… but we’re friends. Just a little hint, and I’ll stop asking; I promise!”

Jowan wasn’t like him. Not as far as Nereus could tell, at least. The other mage, like most mages, feared the unknown. They feared the demons that preyed on them, whispering in their dreams and cooing for them to be _let in_. They’d never seen anyone become an abomination, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t happened. The apprentices that didn’t come back from their Harrowings… they’d probably turned. Or been killed before they turned.

He couldn’t help but think of ‘Mouse.’ The Pride demon had been so clever, masquerading as a young mage that had been killed in his Harrowing. He’d played the feeble, cowardly apprentice all too well. Someone like Jowan would sympathize far more than Nereus had. If he wasn’t strong enough, if he wasn’t warned…

Nereus bowed his head, fearing that his friend would see the look on his face. He didn’t think Jowan would be strong enough or smart enough to see through the demon’s guise. If they laid the same trap, or one on an equal level, then the result wouldn’t be good.

“We can’t talk about this here.” He murmured, heading over to the massive washroom that their dorm shared. According to his stomach, it was probably meal time. The apprentices that weren’t peering at him from the doorway would be in the Great Hall, eating.

 _Why_ are _they watching me so anxiously?_ He’d obviously passed, otherwise he’d be dead. What rumors were going around to cause such a reaction?

He scoured the room for anyone who might be looking to eavesdrop. Seeing no one, he placed a repulsion hex at the door to keep any wanderers out.

“I had to enter the Fade and fight a demon.” He said quietly, watching Jowan’s face for his reaction.

The other mage was quiet for a moment, his dark brows drawn tight over his gray eyes. “That… makes sense. They would want to see if you can resist the demon and stop yourself from becoming an abomination.”

He was taking it rather well. Most apprentices would be pissing their pants with fear. Many of them had never seen demons before, even if they’d heard them in their ventures into the Fade. Most demons wouldn’t show themselves _as_ demons, anyway. Ambrosia only showed herself as a demon because Nereus hadn’t been impressed with her mortal shapes for many years. He found them eerie, not quite right. He’d asked her to stop and she had. Mostly.

“It’s not just combat. The demons work together to try to fool you into possession.” He gave him a quick recap on what had happened, skimming over the details that he didn’t need to know. Mostly, he talked about how Mouse had nearly tricked him.

Jowan listened closely, the frown deepening into a grimace by the end of the tale. “I… I see.” He didn’t say anything else for a moment, then he forced a smile. “I guess this means you’re leaving the rest of us apprentices. You get to move to the nice mages’ quarters upstairs. I’m stuck here and I don’t know when they’ll call me for _my_ Harrowing.”

Ah. Of course that would come up. Nereus grinned, dispelling the hex and exiting the washroom with all the confidence of someone who had done something wrong with no regrets. “I’m sure it’ll be any day now.”

Two younger boys had crept halfway across the dorm. When they saw Nereus, they scattered, making themselves busy with gathering books before rushing out the door ahead of him at a brisk walk.

He wasn’t buying it. “I’ve been here longer than you have.” Jowan sighed, following him through the dorm at a much slower pace. “Sometimes I think they just don’t want to test me.”

He turned, his robes swishing around his feet at the quick motion. “What’re you talking about? Of course they’re going to test you. You’re just being paranoid.”

Wasn’t he?

Jowan shook his head, catching up to him. “No,” he said under his breath, his nervousness kicking into high gear. “I’m afraid of what will happen to me. You do the Harrowing, the Rite of Tranquility… or you die. I don’t know about you, but I don’t particularly like at least two of those options.”

“They’re not going to kill you, Jowan.” He said it sternly, letting him know that he meant it.

“They might not.” Jowan allowed, his eyes losing some of the edginess from before. They looked dull, like slate. “But the Rite is just as bad. Worse, even. You’ve seen the Tranquil around the tower. Like Owain. He’s so… cold.” He shivered. “No, not even cold. There’s just… nothing in him. It’s like he’s dead, but still walking. His voice, his eyes are lifeless.”

He knew Jowan was right. The Tranquil were the true abominations. It wasn’t their fault. They were victims. They weren’t even alive any more. They were husks, practically slaves to the wills of others. They were dead and they didn’t know it.

Before he could say anything, Jowan looked down the hall and said, “I shouldn’t waste your time with this. I was supposed to tell you to see Irving as soon as you woke up.”

“That certainly worked out well,” he japed, rolling his eyes. Of course Irving would want to see him after his Harrowing. And now he was going to be late. “I don’t suppose he told you why?”

Jowan shrugged. “He didn’t tell me. About the Harrowing, I’d guess, but you never know with Irving.” He gave Nereus a friendly shove in the right direction. “You’d better not keep him waiting. We can speak later.”

Avoiding any further questions, Jowan quickly walked down the hall, away from the apprentice mage quarters. Nereus watched him go, wondering what had really gotten his friend so spooked. He was acting stranger than usual.

Shrugging to himself, Nereus started down the hall toward the First Enchanter’s office. All around him the other apprentice mages were whispering. He caught words here and there. They were talking about him and his Harrowing.

 _The fastest on record, huh?_ His blue eyes narrowed on the path ahead as he caught the source of the gossip. He’d only been in the Fade for a few minutes, apparently. It had felt like hours. Time was different in the Fade, he knew, but he worried that for the Harrowing it might be less forgiving.

The mage with the fasted Harrowing before him had been Elowen Surana. She’d finished in half an hour and had the apprentices talking for weeks. She’d been the darling of all of the enchanters for months after that. She was one of the lucky mages that had been recruited to fight at Ostagar. Apparently Senior Enchanter Wynne had handpicked her.

Passing through the library that doubled as a study hall, he saw one of the senior mages attempting to teach an apprentice how to conjure and control a fire. As soon as he mentioned injuries, the apprentice lost his concentration and the fire grew slightly out of control. The senior mage should have known better than to add further worry to the young one’s mind. It was his own fault if he got caught in the flames.

 _Many of these people will never use their magic outside these walls._ He knew that. Unless the battle spread beyond Ostagar, he doubted many more mages would get a chance to leave the Circle. They learned how to contain their magic, not to truly wield it. Too many would never know how to defend themselves if something happened.

Hurrying through the library, he took the stairs to the next floor two at a time. He shouldn’t keep Irving waiting longer than he already had. Rushing through the rest of the halls, but never running, he soon quit his harried pace. He’d arrive when he needed to, he told himself. An extra few seconds made no difference.

Just outside of Irving’s office he found Cullen, one of the younger and more sympathetic Templars. He’d never had a problem with him. In fact, he seemed like a very kind young man, probably about the same age as Nereus himself. He’d seen more than one handful of young women sighing over the handsome young Templar.

“Greetings.” Cullen said with a small smile. “I’m glad your Harrowing went well.”

“As am I, Ser Cullen.” Nereus replied pleasantly. “Were you present? I couldn’t tell the difference between all of the bucketheads.”

Cullen chuckled lightly before coughing to disguise it. “I, ah, yes. I was.” He straightened his posture, looking around as he did so. “I was to be the one to strike you down if you were to become an abomination, in fact.”

It was probably Cullen who had laughed at his jests in the Harrowing chamber. He lifted a sharply arced brow and levelled a charming smile on the curly haired blonde. “Oh, I can’t imagine you having to go through with that. You would have dealt a great loss to Thedas had you been called to do so.”

The knight blushed and lowered his gaze. He likely wasn’t used to the attention from men. “I, ah…” He coughed again, still averting his eyes. “You must be busy. I should… let you go.”

Nereus did his best not to laugh at the poor man. He was cute when he was flustered. “Right, see you around.”

Entering his office he found Irving arguing with Knight-Commander Greagoir. That was nothing new, of course. What _was_ new, was the two guests that were witness to the argument.

“…many have already gone to Ostagar – Wynne, Uldred, and most of the senior mages! We’ve committed enough of our own to this war effort –“ Greagoir was getting pumped up over the argument and hadn’t even noticed Nereus’s entrance.

Irving snorted rudely, interrupting the Knight-Commander. “Your own? Since when have you felt such _kinship_ with the mages, Greagoir? Or are you afraid to let the mages out from under Chantry supervision, where they can actually use their Maker-given powers?”

The old man had never been one to put up with the Templar’s attitude. The two of them had some sort of strange friendly rivalry between them. They agreed on many topics, but they also did their best to undermine the other man’s authority as often as possible.

Nereus respected the both of them, but he only trusted Irving. The First Enchanter had always done his best to look after him, ever since he’d first come to the Circle. He’d made sure that Greagoir had punished the Templars that had hurt him, too. From the beginning of his studies, Irving had always taken a special interest in his training.

He had cleared half of the room now, coming to a halt beside the shorter of the two guests. He looked down at the dwarf, noticed he was filthy, and nodded respectfully to him. The dwarf gave him a weird look, but returned the nod nonetheless.

The argument seemed like it would never end. Greagoir was sputtering angrily now, his armored fists clenched and held tightly to his sides. “How dare you suggest –“

“Gentlemen, please.” The man to the right of the dwarf was a human wearing blue and silverite armor. He wasn’t as filthy as the dwarf, but he looked like he’d been traveling hard, his dark skin still smudged with dirt. “Irving, someone is here to see you.”

Nereus waved at the Knight-Commander before turning to greet the guests. “Hello. You must be new here. This is how the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander show each other their love.”

The armored man laughed, his dark eyes twinkling merrily. “I’ve gathered that much already.”

Greagoir was glaring. Irving was smiling placidly. “Ah, if it isn’t our new brother in the Circle.” He waved his arm for Nereus to join him and Greagoir. “Come, child.”

He didn’t want to get closer to the templar than he had to, but he stepped up to the First Enchanter.

The dark skinned man was watching him. “I take it this is…?”

The First Enchanter nodded. “Yes, this is Nereus Amell.”

Nereus looked between the two of them, wondering what was going unsaid between the elder mage and the stranger.

Greagoir huffed, drawing the attention back to his hulking armored form. “Well, Irving, you’re obviously busy. We will discuss this later.”

Without waiting for a response, he stomped off, his armor clanking loudly until he shut the door behind him.

“Well, then… where was I?” Irving was saying, his stiff posture relaxing immediately. “Oh, yes. This is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens, and his recruit, Leif of Orzammar.”

A Grey Warden! He knew he’d recognized the armor. Nereus bowed his head respectfully. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. The Grey Wardens are legends. We don’t tend to have those lying around in the Circle.”

The dwarf cracked a smile.

“You’ve heard about the war brewing to the south, I expect?” Irving was never really one for small talk. He always had to go straight to the heart of the matter. “Duncan is recruiting mages to join the king’s army at Ostagar.”

“Reeeeaally?” He drew the word out, swiping a hand through his long brown hair. He’d pulled it back into a braid before turning in for bed the night before, but some of the hair had come loose during the ‘walk’ to the Harrowing chamber. “May I say, I am _excellent_ with elemental spells and barriers? Because I am.”

Duncan smiled warmly. “With the darkspawn invading, we need all the help we can get. Especially from the Circle. Darkspawn have mages of their own, though they are rare.”

Images from woodblock prints flashed through his mind. _Darkspawn_. They were supposedly the most vicious, vile things to be found in all of Thedas. Aside from abominations and demons, of course.

“Oh, right… darkspawn.” He wondered what it must be like to be face to face against an ancient evil. “That’s what we’re fighting, isn’t it?”

The Warden nodded, the action awfully grave. Nereus looked to the First Enchanter, curiosity brewing in his light blue eyes. “Is this what you wanted to tell me? Because if you want to ship me down south-“

Irving cut him off, shaking his head; the motion caused his long white beard to waggle. “Of course not. I wished to congratulate you on a successful end to last night’s ordeal.” He smiled, shifting to retrieve something from his desk as he spoke. “The Harrowing is behind you. Your phylactery was sent to Denerim. You are officially a mage within the Circle of Magi.”

 _Phylactery. More like my leash._ “Ah, of course. Phylactery. _Grand._ ” He forced a smile of his own. “Er, thank you, First Enchanter.”

“I’m sorry – what is this ‘phylactery’?” Duncan asked, clearly feeling left out of the conversation.

Irving filled him in, still rummaging about the various drawers in his desk. “Blood is taken from all apprentices when they first come to the tower and is preserved in special vials.”

The Warden nodded appreciatively. “I see. This is so they can be hunted if they turn apostate, I take it?”

The First Enchanter stood straight and set a pair of robes and a ring on his desk. “We have few choices. The gift of magic is looked upon with suspicion and fear. We must prove we are strong enough to handle our power responsibly.” He sighed, and then reached up to a shelf to retrieve a staff. Gathering the robes and ring up again, he walked around the desk and handed the items to Nereus. “ _You_ have done this. I present you with your robes, your staff, and a ring bearing the Circle’s insignia. Wear them proudly, for you have earned them.”

Accepting the bundle, Nereus placed the ring on his finger, and then took the staff in hand. It looked very much like the one he’d won from Valor in the Fade. It had a good weight to it. It was already harmonizing with his mana, too.

“Thank you.” He said, graciously. “So what happens now?”

The elder mage chortled softly. “Patience, child. You have been through an ordeal. Let us not rush things.” In a more serious intonation, he added: “It goes without saying that you shall not discuss the Harrowing with those who have not undergone the rite.”

Nereus nodded aptly. “Of course, sir. That’s what we’ve been told from the start.”

“Good, good,” Irving muttered approvingly. “Now, then… take your time to rest, or study in the library. The day is yours.”

He _really_ didn’t feel like studying. He’d already passed his test. “Actually, I’d prefer to talk now if that’s okay with you. There’s been something I’ve been meaning to ask about…”

The old man chuckled cordially. “Impetuousness is ever the province of youth, I see.”

Duncan shifted, his armor making a much quieter sound than Greagoir’s had earlier. “I think Leif and I shall find our quarters, then. We can discuss recruitment later, perhaps?”

An odd gleam lit up in the old mage’s eyes. “Nereus, would you be so kind as to escort Duncan back to his room?”

 _Is he trying to get rid of me?_ He wondered if he knew he was going to ask about Jowan. “Sure, I can do that. We’ll talk later.”

Nodding in dismissal, the First Enchanter, walked the three of them to the door. “Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have matters to discuss with Greagoir.”

Opening the door revealed the Knight-Commander waiting on the other side. He had replaced Ser Cullen and was brooding against the wall. He spared the three men a glance before brushing past them, substituting them in Irving’s office and closing the door behind him.

“What crawled up his ass and died?” Leif grumbled lowly, falling into step on the mage’s left.

“Oh, that’s just Greagoir. This is one of his _good_ days, if you can believe it.” Nereus informed him lightly, smiling at the scruffy recruit.

Duncan hummed thoughtfully. “He is a man scarred from experience. Irving is careful with him, making light of dark situations in an effort to familiarize him and put him at ease. It will not work.” He sighed, as if disappointed, then smiled. “Thank you for walking with us. I confess, I do not know if we would have found our way without assistance.”

Nereus laughed. “You must be joking. It’s a circle, not a maze.”

The Warden shrugged. “I’m afraid everything looks the same to these old eyes. I can’t tell one hall from another.”

“Huh, maybe I’ve been here too long,” the mage admitted. He knew each hall and room as well as he knew his spells. He wasn’t even supposed to have access to many of the rooms, but he always found a way. A curious mind could be a dangerous thing.

“So, Duncan, I’d like to take this chance to ask you a few things…”

They chatted about the war in the south. Greagoir and Irving had been arguing about the place of mages in the war. Of course Greagoir was afraid that when mages realized their powers were actually _useful_ they might want to separate from the control of the Chantry. Duncan said only that he condoned any force to be used against the darkspawn. The horde had not shown itself yet, but there were raids. The king’s army was doing its best to hold them back, but he feared they would not be enough if the archdemon showed.

Eventually, they reached the guest quarters that Duncan and Leif would be inhabiting during their stay at the Circle.

“I’d like to talk with you again when you have the time,” Nereus said as he bid them farewell. “I don’t get a lot of chances to talk to outsiders.”

“Hm, I can imagine.” Duncan said amiably, looking about the room. “Thank you for escorting us. I’m sure we’ll have a chance to speak again later.”

Leif yawned. “I think I’d like that bath. Then maybe sleep.”

“It’s all yours, my friend,” Nereus laughed. “We have full plumbing throughout the Circle. It’ll be cold, I’m afraid, but it should do.”

The dwarf grunted, already beginning to shuck his filthy armor. “Better’n nothin’. Thanks again.”

He left the two of them to recover. It looked like they’d been through the Void and back. He wondered if they’d taken the Deep Roads out of Orzammar and if there was an entrance near the Circle.

_If there is, that might explain how Anders always manages to get so far before he’s caught._

The wily mage was just a few years older than him, but he was one of the most talented practitioners in the tower. Before Surana, Anders had been the record holder for fastest Harrowing. He’d become an accomplished spirit healer in half the time other mages had put in. He had also been escaping the Tower since the day he’d been brought in.

His last attempt had been just a few months ago. He’d gotten as far as Denerim before being caught. Rumor said he’d been in a brothel and it had been pure luck that the templars had found him.

Now the poor fool was locked in solitary. He’d be there for a year.

Nereus shivered. Anders had taken just as much abuse as he had. He hated the templars. He’d always been the one to pick up the pieces when some poor mage had been beaten or raped. Nereus was surprised it hadn’t driven the other man to murder. He was a healer, though. He never hurt the templars that caught him and beat him, even though he had every right to fight back. Anders was one of the few mages that Nereus _knew_ could easily take a templar in a fight.

He’d be a dead man by now if he’d tried, though. Killing a templar was punishable by death, not lock up.

 _But killing a mage gets you an early retirement._ Nereus gritted his teeth, avoiding the gaze of passersby as he headed to his new quarters.

It wasn’t fair, how they treated them. The templars literally got away with murdering innocents because they _might_ be dangerous. They took everything from them and they had the gall to _laugh_ about it as they did so.

He closed the door to his quarters, looking around to see that there was one other mage present. He nodded to the other man, who in turn ignored him completely, focusing on his writing instead. Taking no offense, Nereus went over to one of the dividers that separated the room. He found an unclaimed bed and disrobed, changing into the new robes the First Enchanter had given him.

He hated the Circle.

The Circle had been his home for twelve years.

He had never wanted to be so far from home.

 


	6. New Allegiance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nereus learns the hard way that not everyone can be trusted.

\----------------------

9:30 Dragon, Draconis 7th

 ---------------------

 

 _The ceilings here are so_ high _._

Nereus sighed. He’d been lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling for an hour. His dorm mate was still scribbling away at his desk; the scratch of quill on parchment almost comforting in a mind numbing sort of way. He wanted to ask Irving about Jowan’s Harrowing, but he knew the old man wouldn’t answer him. Harrowings were a very private affair. No one knew when they would be taken to the top of the tower for their Harrowing; not until they were already there.

He was worried for his friend. Jowan had been acting strangely for too long. He’d _said_ it was because he was seeing someone, but Nereus had never seen him _with_ anyone. He was sitting alone more often than not. Many of the other apprentices would whisper in little groups when he was near. Nereus didn’t know what they were saying, but he couldn’t imagine it would be good.

For as long as he could remember, he and Jowan had been outcasts in the Circle. Jowan, because of his awkward self. He never knew how to act around people. He’d befriended Nereus when he’d first come to the Tower. Jowan was older and had been there for two years before him. He’d already adjusted to the teasing that came with being an awkward preteen.

Nereus had been ten and very _delicate_ for his age. He’d been a very beautiful child and many of the apprentices had thought him a girl at first. When they’d realized he was not, they’d teased him incessantly, pulling pranks on him and even excluding him from their little cliques. He’d retaliated by “accidentally” burning up some of their coursework right before lessons.

Jowan had taken note of his outsider status immediately and defended him from the apprentices that wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. When the two of them were together, they wouldn’t take any harassment without doling it back twice as hard. It had gotten them into quite a bit of trouble during their first few years as friends. The others learned soon enough to just leave them alone if they didn’t want to wake up in the Great Hall, greased up in their knickers.

Smiling broadly at the memory of their early hijinks, Nereus decided it was time for him to track his friend down. He’d corner him and demand the answers if he had to. He wanted to help him.

* * *

He’d barely taken three steps out the door when Jowan came running up to him. He waved him over with a smile that quickly progressed into a frown when he caught the panicked look in the other man’s eyes.

“I was just about to look for you. What’s wrong?” He met him halfway through the hall and let him catch his breath.

“I need to talk to you.” He said softly, leaning in close to whisper. “Do you remember what we discussed this morning?”

“Yes, of course.” He replied, looking around nervously now. “Why are you whispering? It looks suspicious, you know.”

Jowan laughed coldly. “Apparently everything I _do_ is suspicious.” He sighed. “I just want to make sure that we’re not overheard. We should go somewhere else. I don’t feel safe talking here.”

“You’re starting to worry me, Jowan.” He said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He averted his gaze, his gray eyes unsure. “I’ve been troubled… I’ll explain. Come with me, please.”

Unsure of what to say to placate his friend, he followed him through the circular halls, dodging the eyes of everyone they passed. Eventually Nereus found himself in the Circle’s Chantry with Jowan and a single priestess. He eyed her suspiciously until Jowan walked up to her, planting a chaste kiss on her lips. She blushed, smiling and wrapping an arm around his waist.

Nereus didn’t know whether to laugh or not. Jowan hadn’t been lying about seeing someone, that’s for sure.

The three of them walked over to one of the alcoves furthest from the entryway. Jowan and the woman stayed side by side and faced Nereus.

“We should be safe here.” Jowan said, relief breaking through the tone of worry that had been on the edge of every word just moments before.

“In the chapel? The templars’ favorite haunt?” He didn’t think they were thinking the whole secrecy thing through. The templars were always drifting in and out of the Chantry.

The woman spoke up at last. “We can see the door from here. If anyone comes, we’ll change the subject.”

He stared at her, still in disbelief that Jowan had actually been seeing someone. A _pretty_ someone, at that. She was cute, especially for a priestess. “Have we met?”

The redhead nodded, a small smile playing across her lips. “In a way. I often attend to my duties in this chapel. Perhaps that is why I seem familiar.”

“Huh.” He didn’t attend Chantry services if he could avoid it. He’d probably seen her in the halls on her way in.

Nereus shot Jowan a questioning look. The other man was fidgeting, obviously anxious again now that they were in private. He obviously didn’t want to talk about what was troubling him.

“Just tell me already. I can’t stand your twitching.” He may have snapped a bit, but it seemed to do the trick.

* * *

 

Jowan told him everything, starting with meeting Lily. Turned out she happened to be an initiate, so she wasn’t allowed to have any sort of _relations_ with men. Something about purity and some other crap, of course. They’d both be in enough trouble due to their fooling around behind everyone’s backs.

He knew that was reason enough to worry, but his friend was still holding something back. He was clearly trying to gather the courage to talk about it.

Lily squeezed Jowan’s hand and smiled encouragingly. He sighed and finally got to the root of his fear.

“Remember I said that I didn’t think they wanted to give me my Harrowing? I know why. They’re… going to make me Tranquil.” He’d spoken slowly at first, forcing the words through his lips like rocks. Once he’d gotten it out, the rocks turned into a landslide of emotions. “They’ll take _everything_ that I am from me – my dreams, hopes, fears… my _love_ for Lily. All gone…” Tears were streaming down his long, pale face. “They’ll extinguish my _humanity_. I’ll just be a husk, breathing and existing, but not truly living.”

Lily was embracing him now, calming him and stroking his hair. She whispered things to him, smiling gently as she did so and he smiled back. Nereus wouldn’t have believed it before. Seeing his friend so blissfully happy was nice… in a sickening sort of way.

He looked away, watching the door. “I won’t let that happen to you.”

Jowan was wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his robes. “I was hoping you’d say that. You’re always looking out for me.”

Nereus laughed quietly. “Only because you’ve been doing the same for me.” He frowned. “How did you find out about this?”

“I saw the document on Greagoir’s table.” Lily admitted, shaking her head in disbelief. “It authorized the Rite on Jowan, and Irving had signed it.”

Now he understood why the First Enchanter had been so keen to get rid of him. He must have known he was going to ask about Jowan. He was stunned. “Why would they do this? What have you done?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Jowan cried, cringing at having raised his voice. “There’s… a rumor about me. People think I’m a blood mage! They think that making me a Circle mage will endanger everyone.”

He almost laughed at the very idea. Jowan didn’t have the guts to be a blood mage. He’d always flinched at the sight of blood, for starters. He bitched and moaned about the smallest bruises, too. He was lucky he’d never had to deal with any of the bad templars in the tower.

“That’s ridiculous. Anyone with eyes can see that you’re not a blood mage.” He paused, reflecting on how he’d been worrying about him for the past few months. It seemed like that had been for nothing, since he was clearly with Lily, just as he’d said.

“I know, that’s why-“

“ _Are_ you a blood mage, Jowan? No judgement.” He smirked, cutting him off.

“Wha-“ Jowan sputtered, caught off guard. “I- _No_!”

Nereus laughed at his friend’s expense, waving his hand to show that it was only a joke. “I _know_. Calm down.” His smile was honest this time. “You’re my best friend, Jowan. I know you.”

He looked like he was going to start crying again. After a moment, he returned the smile. “Thank you, Nereus.”

“So,” he said, clapping his hands together. “I assume you have a plan you want to fire my way.”

They both nodded. “I need to escape. I need to destroy my phylactery. Without it they can’t track me down.” He looked to the woman at his side, still holding her hand in his. “We need your help. Lily and I can’t do this on our own.”

“Of course you can’t.” He checked the door again. No one had opened it, not even a crack. They were extremely lucky, it seemed. “I’ll do whatever it takes. So long as it’s a good plan. We don’t want to get caught. If we do, the best we can hope for is death.”

* * *

 

The apprentice phylacteries were stored in the repository in the tower’s basement. There were two locks on the door. The First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander each held a key. There was obviously no way they were getting either of those. If the door was infused with some kind of magic, they didn’t know if their powers would work against it.

Jowan suggested a rod of fire, which would require a visit to the stockroom. Rods of fire were technically dangerous, so it was likely they would need a request form signed by a senior enchanter. Nereus could handle that, easily. Senior Enchanter Leorah had always been sweet on him. He’d start with her. 

 

“I’ll take care of this,” Nereus told them, heading for the door. “You two wait here. I’ll attract less attention on my own.”

 

This worked for all of ten minutes before he ran into Leif. The dwarf had clearly cleaned up, but it didn’t look like he’d gotten much rest. He was back in his armor and it was clear he'd done his best to remove most of the filth. It was obvious he wasn't comfortable. He looked like he’d been wandering the halls for some time.

Nereus was obviously in a hurry, but the dwarf recognized him. “Nereus, right? This is quite the tower you mages have here.”

He suppressed the urge to keep walking and instead approached the dwarf with a neutral smile. “It would be if it were ours. I’m sure we’d have _much_ better taste in decorations, though.” He waved his hand around. “Maybe put in a few extra windows for some sunshine. What do you think?”

Leif shrugged. “I dunno. This is a lot like Orzammar, actually. I’m still not used to the whole sunshine thing, but… it’s nice.” His brows furrowed in confusion. “So, the mages aren’t the ones in charge?”

 _He doesn’t know a thing about anything, does he_? Dwarves didn’t have magic, so they didn’t have Circles of Magi or templars. “No, we are not. At least, not here. The _templars_ are in charge, I’m afraid.”

“The big guys in all that plate? I thought they were just guards or somethin’.”

The mage snorted. “If only that were the truth.” He didn’t say anything else, hoping that maybe the dwarf would excuse himself so he could get back to the task at hand.

No such luck.

“Hey, so what’re you up to? Mind if I tag along? I’m kinda bored and Duncan is just watching everyone.” He was certainly friendly. Nothing at all like what he’d expected a dwarf to be.

“I’m kind of in the middle of something, actually.” He needed to find Senior Enchanter Leorah. After making a stop by storage to pick up the request form. He’d need an excuse for that, though.

“Oh, okay.” Leif looked no worse for wear in response to his dismissal. “I’m sure I’ll find something to do.”

“I recommend the library,” Nereus said lightly. “Not for the reading, of course. You should watch some of the apprentices. They’ll probably set at least one thing on fire while you’re there. In fact, I’ll walk with you part of the way. I have to go that way myself.”

* * *

 

Stopping off at the stock room, he pointed Leif in the direction of the library and wished him luck. At least he seemed interested in seeing magic first hand.

Approaching the storeroom, he saw one of the tower’s resident Tranquil was in charge. It was Owain. He’d been afraid of the Harrowing and had actually volunteered to undergo the Rite. Nereus wondered if he was screaming on the inside.

“Welcome to the Circle’s stockroom of magical items. My name is Owain. How may I assist you?” His voice was as dead as his eyes. It was like speaking with a portrait that hadn’t had the face painted in quite right.

“I need a rod of fire request form,” he said, keeping his voice professional. Not that it would make any sort of difference with the Tranquil man.

Owain turned to shuffle through separate stacks of parchment. “Rods of fire serve many purposes. Why do you wish to acquire this particular item?”

 _What’s with the third degree? Do they make him ask everyone?_ He sighed. It probably didn’t matter what he said. “I’m researching some fire damage spells. I don’t want to waste my mana, so I’m substituting the rod of fire for minor experiments.”

That seemed to be good enough. He was handed the form that would need to be signed by a senior enchanter. He left in search of Leorah, hoping she was in a good mood.

It turned out she was _not_ in a good mood. Of course.

He understood her snapping, though. Giant spiders had somehow gotten inside the storerooms on her watch. She was too scared to clear them out herself. Nereus promised to take care of the problem in exchange for her signing the request form, but he didn’t fancy going up against the massive arachnids alone.

The blonde dwarf was the face at the forefront of his mind. He was bored. Obviously he was skilled. He’d probably fought giant spiders in Orzammar.

Nereus hurried to the library.

* * *

 

Leif was predictably easy to find. His unusual stature and attire made him stand out from the lanky mages, all of them wearing similar styles and colors of robes. Fashion wasn’t exactly a top priority for mages.

The dwarf was seated at one of the heavy wooden tables and was watching some of the younger apprentices as they performed simple spells for their lessons. He was absolutely transfixed, not seeming to pay any attention to anything but the magic being performed in front of him.

“Leif,” Nereus called to him when he was within speaking distance. “Could I get your help with something?”

The blonde looked up, surprise etched across his rugged features. He hopped down from the bench and approached Nereus with a question in his green eyes. “Not busy anymore?”

The mage grinned and started leading him to the stairs. “Still busy. I could just _really_ use your expertise with something?”

Grunting in response, Leif said, “I hope you’re talking about my expertise in beatings. ‘Cause that’s all I’ve got to offer.”

Laughing at the insinuation, Nereus shot a friendly smile down at the other man. “That is _exactly_ what I require of you, my friend.”

That earned him a _very_ agitated look. “I’m not going to be a thug for you, mage.”

Shocked, Nereus stopped to look down at the dwarf. He certainly appeared to be a thug. The dark tattoo branded into his face did enough for that, but his multitude of scars and his lean muscles spoke of experience fighting. The glare he was levelling at the dark haired mage was withering enough. He could only imagine the sort of damage the scrappy dwarf could deal out.

“Do you… think I want you to hurt someone?” Nereus let a slow smile spread across his face. It was interesting that Leif objected to the idea of violence. _How unexpected._ “Would you like to know what I want?”

Emotions flashed through the dwarf’s vibrant green eyes. Eventually, doubt must have won through, as he asked, “What do you want?”

The mage waved a hand, motioning for the two of them to continue. After a moment, Leif followed along. “I’m performing a favor for one of the senior enchanters. There’s a spider infestation in the storerooms. I’ve never gone against giant spiders before, so I’d like to have some backup.”

Listening quietly, the dwarf pulled at his scruffy beard. “Hm. We had to clear out a nest once. Nasty shit. Spiders’r surprisingly good at ambushes.” He looked up at Nereus again, a suspicious gleam in his eyes once more. “Why not ask one of your mage pals to help? Or those templar fellows?”

They’d just passed Leorah at her table and Nereus waved at her, still shuffling Leif along at a casual pace through the slightly crowded room. He quickly opened the door with the key Leorah had given him and waited for Leif to go in before going in after him and closing the door behind them.

“Like I said,” he looked around the dark cavern, noting the webs that decorated the heaps of boxes. “It’s a favor to one of the senior enchanters. No one else knows and she doesn’t want to get in trouble. Besides, the templars would just find a reason to lord over us even more if we asked for their help.”

“Shitty,” Leif remarked, eyeing the webs and lightly touching the sheathed blade on his hip and removing a mace from a strap on his back. “Right. Well, let’s get this over with.”

* * *

 

The infestation was worse than Nereus had imagined. The arachnids were also a lot bigger and faster than he’d thought they’d be. He knew they were mostly considered vermin and easily dealt with by experienced hunters, but he’d never gone against much of anything before his Harrowing.

When the first one had come skittering through the hall, he’d been frightened, yet exhilarated all at the same time. He’d hit it with winter’s grasp and a few arcane bolts while Leif danced ahead, ending its life with a few well-placed hits from the mace and dagger that he held.

After that, it had mostly been a matter of dealing with the sneakier creatures. Like Leif had said before, they were good at ambushing. Dropping down from the dark ceilings with disturbing hissing, clicking their venom-wetted mandibles, the spiders were truly terrifying. Nereus had found himself backed up against a wall with a barrier in place more than a few times when the spiders got bold and leapt upon him, trying their best to dig their massive fangs into him. Lucky for him, the barriers always held and the spiders were simply dealt with once Leif flanked them, caving in their soft abdomens with his mace.

It took a good hour, but eventually they cleared the storerooms of the spiders, going so far as to burn any egg sacs they discovered and tearing down webs. In the process, they even found a few discarded weapons, some coins, and other items the spiders had brought to their nests.

“You can keep it all,” Nereus had said, helping Leif to store the found items in his pack. “I won’t have any use for it.”

“Are you sure? Doesn’t this belong to the Circle?” The dwarf had asked, his tone dubious.

Shrugging, Nereus said, “Consider it payment for services rendered. You’ve earned it.”

He’d accepted it at that and the two of them parted ways after leaving the caves behind. Nereus locked the doors again and approached Leorah with a light swagger to his hips.

“I have performed my duties, as promised, fair Leorah.” He flourished the parchment before her and plucked a pen from the table to pass to her. “Now it’s your turn.”

The older woman eyed him with a wry grin pulling at her lips. “You’re certain? I don’t see any spider guts on your nice new robes.”

He shrugged, watching as she signed the request form anyway. “I’m too good to allow anyone to see how dirty I am, you know that.”

The elder mage laughed, handing him the parchment and holding her hand out for the key. “Oh, I know.” She pocketed the key when he dropped it in her waiting hand. “Run along now. I’m sure you have all sorts of trouble awaiting you now.”

“Oh, you’ve _no idea_ ,” he forewarned, winking and strutting out of the room, his robes billowing lightly in his wake.

* * *

 

Instead of going straight back to Lily and Jowan, Nereus found himself headed back toward the First Enchanter’s quarters. He still couldn’t believe that Irving would sign off on Jowan receiving the Rite. It just didn’t fit. Jowan was clearly innocent, so it would take some hard proof to convince the First Enchanter to allow him to be made Tranquil. Irving almost _never_ let someone be made Tranquil. He’d made the exception with Owain only because he’d asked for it.

 _This has to be a mistake_. Or maybe Lily was lying. Maybe she just wanted to escape the life of the Chantry and wanted Jowan by her side. Jowan would never risk escaping without good reason. He wasn’t like Anders, who’d made six attempts already. He couldn’t take the beatings and the imprisonment. If she’d told him he was going to be made Tranquil just to scare him, that might be enough to convince him to leave with her.

When he found Irving in his office, he was alone. He’d obviously finished up with Gregoir some time ago. He was bowed over a stack of parchment on his desk and had a pair of spectacles balanced on his long nose. He looked up when Nereus rapped his knuckles on the doorframe.

The old mage carefully removed the glasses and folded them up. “Ah, Nereus. Did you need something?”

“Yes. I’d like to continue our talk from earlier, if you’re not busy.” He closed the door behind him, just in case anyone thought about eavesdropping.

Irving nodded appreciatively and waved him over to take a seat across from him. “Speak, then. What’s on your mind?”

“I wanted to ask about Jowan,” he said, figuring it was best to just dive right in. Dancing around the matter wouldn’t get him any answers. “He’s been here longer than I have. Why hasn’t he had his Harrowing?”

The First Enchanter eyed him carefully, tenting his bony fingers on his desk. “He is not ready for his Harrowing. He is not yet strong enough to handle the stress brought on by the experience.”

 _He’s lying_. He just knew he was. He continued to press him. “I disagree. Jowan is very talented and he’s always shown that. He’s ready.”

“That is not for you to decide.” Irving’s stance was firm and his usually feeble voice had a sudden strength behind it. “Nor is it your place to question my decision.”

“You’re going to let them make him Tranquil,” he whispered in disgust. “I can’t believe it.”

“How have you come to this conclusion?” Irving snapped. His eyes narrowed and he leaned back in his seat. “I suppose the young initiate he dallies about with revealed it to him. You seem shocked. You think I didn’t know? I did not become First Enchanter by keeping my eyes and ears shut.”

Nereus realized he was gaping, having been more than shocked when the old mage had snapped at him. He’d never seen Irving react that way to anyone but Gregoir. Not to mention he _knew_ about Jowan and Lily. The old man was definitely a lot wilier than anyone gave him credit for.

“How could you let this happen?” He didn’t understand. He thought Irving had been protecting them. “Jowan is _not_ a blood mage.”

Now he was looking at him with sympathy in his tired eyes. “Greagoir says he has proof – and eyewitness testimony – that Jowan has been practicing blood magic.” He sighed, wiping at the glasses he’d discarded and replacing them on his nose. “Were it left to me, things might be different. But the Chantry… I’m sorry, child. This Rite of Tranquility _will_ happen.”

 _No, it won’t._ “This isn’t right and you know it.” Nereus rose from his chair, anger coloring his quiet voice.

Irving nodded, rising from his seat as well. “It is not. I can do nothing. My hands are tied.” He was watching Nereus very carefully now. “You were hoping it wasn’t true. Why? Not just because you fear for your friend’s life. No. Surely Jowan does not plan on going to the Rite quietly, now that he knows. And now you are here. You felt comfortable enough to come to me. If there is something you wish to say, then say it now.”

 _He knows_. Nereus looked away. Would Irving try to stop them? He said he didn’t want it to happen, that he knew it was wrong. _He only said that_ his _hands are tied. Mine are not._ If there was even a chance that he might help them pull it off, he had to know.

“What if you could stop it?” He prompted, speaking very softly. He knew no one would hear them, even if their ears were pressed against the door. Still, for some reason he was terrified of being heard.

Irving leaned forward across his desk. “If I could simply do so, then I would. I know Jowan is your friend, Nereus. I know you would do anything to help him.”

Nereus nodded. “Of course I would.” Did he want to help? He said that if he could he would… _This may be my only chance._ But if it was a mistake… No, he couldn’t risk the chance that it _wasn’t_ a mistake. “… I’m helping him escape. We need to destroy his phylactery so the templars can’t hunt him down.” What if the rod didn’t work? “I know you have one of the keys to the repository. If you could-“

“Is she involved?” Irving cut him off, his eyes guarded. “I suspected Lily would tell him of the impending Rite if she found out. But I never expected they would have the gall to break into the repository.”

He stopped speaking, the realization dawning on him. “Irving, please. Please don’t go to Greagoir.”

The elder mage waved a dismissive hand. “Reporting him to Greagoir and the templars will accomplish nothing beyond what’s already planned.” For a moment, he hoped that his suspicion had been proven wrong. Then Irving continued. “If the Circle must punish one of its own, I will see the Chantry done the same courtesy. Lily will not walk free while my apprentice suffers.”

Gritting his teeth in anger, he hissed, “Lily is just trying to save the man she _loves_. That’s more than what _I’m_ doing for them.”

“Be that as it may, she is also breaking every vow she ever took.” Irving was not putting up with his ire. “You are aware that when they are caught, the Chantry will say she was framed. No, she must be caught _in the act_.”

 _I can’t believe what I’m hearing_. The old mage wasn’t content with simply one life being ruined. “You conniving old-“

Irving slammed a weathered hand against his desk, cutting him off. “If you want to survive, you must learn the rules and realize that sometimes, sacrifices are necessary.” Content that he’d silenced the young man, he added in a low voice: “Jowan will become Tranquil, but Lily must also face the consequences of her actions. How did you learn of their plan? Do they trust you?”

It was clear that he was not going to be given any leniency on his end, either. He answered dumbly; still stunned by the way events were unfolding. “Unfortunately, yes. I swore I would help them.”

“Perfect.” Irving was nodding. He began pacing behind his desk, obviously trying to sort his thoughts out into some kind of plan. “Will you return to them and carry out their scheme? With solid proof of their crime, we can act.”

He felt sick. In his desperation to save his friend, he’d damned him. “I… I don’t know if I can do this. This was a mistake.”

Irving’s voice was sharp, edged with poison. “You _will_ do this. No charge from me is beyond your duty to this Circle, _mage_. You must obey this order.”

It was all he could do not to retch right then. He’d never heard the First Enchanter use the word “mage” like it was a brand. It had always been a word said with pride. Now it sounded like a pair of shackles being wrapped around his wrists, binding him to do the will of whoever held his chain.

“As you say, _First Enchanter_.” He spit the title like it was acid on his tongue.

The old man did not miss the hostility, but he nodded all the same. “Go. Convince them you will risk all for their cause.” He came around the desk, already pushing Nereus towards the door. “I will be outside the repository with a contingent of templars. Let them see the mischief into which their initiate led our student.” He held a hand on the young mage’s shoulder and smiled at him with confidence. “Perform well, and your dedication will be rewarded.”

Nereus shuddered, inclining his head to disguise the movement. “Yes, First Enchanter.”

* * *

 

Upon his return to the Circle’s small chapel, he found Lily and Jowan sitting at the back of the room, their heads bowed as if praying. When he approached, they looked up and rose to greet him. The hope in their eyes made him sick. He didn’t deserve their admiration.

He held the rod of fire for them to see, trying to distract them as well as himself. “As promised. One rod of fire.”

“Maker, what took you so long? I was beginning to worry.” Jowan wiped his hands on his robes, leaving small dark streaks on the fabric.

Nereus shrugged and pocketed the device. “It involved a senior enchanter, a dwarf, and some spiders. The less said, the better.”

Jowan laughed, bumping his shoulder affectionately. “Of course it did. I shouldn’t have doubted you for a moment.”

“If you two are done celebrating,” Lily broke in, looking relieved and nervous at the same time. “We’d best get to the repository. It’s close to dinner, so most everyone will be in the Great Hall.”

The mention of food served as a reminder to Nereus that he hadn’t eaten since the night before. He’d been so nervous throughout most of the day that he’d completely forgotten to eat. He was finding it difficult to work up an appetite now with his betrayal so close at hand.

“You’re right. Let’s move.”

* * *

 

They were met with no resistance the entire way to the basement. Nereus kept expecting to see someone looking at them with suspicious, knowing eyes, but no one paid them any attention. Soon enough, they were going through the basement door and still no templars had seized them. He wondered how far Irving would allow them to go before they were found out.

Coming up to another door, Lily lead their approach, speaking in a scholarly tone. “The Chantry calls this entrance ‘The Victims’ Door.’ It is built of two hundred and seventy-seven planks, one for each original templar. It is a reminder of all the dangers those cursed with magic pose.”

“Lovely,” Nereus sighed, looking at the large door with disdain. “So, how do we get past it?”

“The doors can be opened only by a templar and a mage, entering together.” She explained, stepping up to the door and motioning for him to join her. “The Chantry provides the password, which primes the ward, and the mage touches it with mana, to release it.

“First, the password…” She holds her hand out towards the door, closing her eyes and bowing her head. “‘Sword of the Maker, Tears of the Fade.’”

A flash of energy rushed over the surface of the door before seemingly dissipating. Nereus couldn’t see it, but he could _feel_ the door humming gently. He looked to Lily, wondering what he was supposed to do.

She touched the staff he held in his hand. “The password only primes the door. Now it must feel the touch of mana. Any spell will do, but hurry.”

Holding the staff out before him, he touched on the flow of mana spiraling throughout his body. A touch of winter blew throughout the hall, creeping up on the door. Grating against the floor, the door opened before them, revealing another hallway.

Without a word, the trio walked through the door.

* * *

 

The next door they came to wouldn’t open. Not with magic and not with the rod of fire. Luckily for them, there was another door down a separate passage that _did_ open. After melting the lock with the rod, of course.

Passing through the alternate door, they were a little less fortunate. The suits of armor that decorated the hall within suddenly became animate, attacking them almost immediately. It had been up to Nereus to defend Jowan and Lily from the armored assault. There were only a few nearby and they’d been easily blasted apart with his spells.

“We should be wary.” He’d said, looking down at the disassembled armor. “I doubt these are the only sentinels guarding this place.”

He’d been proven correct, of course. Throughout their journey, they were disrupted by the strange, spelled armor. After the first few, Lily had stripped them of some weapons, producing a sword and dagger for herself.

“You sure you can use those?” Nereus had asked warily, watching the woman as she’d plucked the blades from the armored grasp.

She’d rolled her eyes at him. “My father taught me how to defend myself.”

“And then shipped you off to the Chantry?” He’d asked apprehensively.

She’d averted her eyes. “No. Then he died.”

They travel on, passing cells lined with shelves and tables that have tons of books, dust, and spider webs piled all about. It was fascinating, seeing what the Circle had shoved down into the darkness, away from prying eyes. So many books and artifacts from different ages and they were just collecting dust in the shadows.

Passing through another door, they encountered more sentinels. With both Nereus and Lily fighting, Jowan was able to cast a few unsteady spells whenever the enchanted armor seemed distracted by the main threat.

On they went and they seemed to only encounter more doors and more bewitched suits of armor. It seemed like there was no end to them and Nereus was beginning to wonder if the whole thing was one sick joke.

“Why are there so many doors?” He was exasperated. The doors were beginning to prove a bigger threat than the sentinels.

Jowan was panting after having used too much mana in the last fight. “Maybe they built them to confound people who came down here so they’d just give up?”

“You might be onto something there.” Nereus grouched, rolling up his sleeves just as another pair of sentinels attacked after going through _another_ Maker forsaken door.

Lily was beginning to fray at the seams as well. “Why can’t you just leave us alone?!”

She’d torn into their enemies with reckless slashes, kicking at the plate armor in a rage. Nereus saved her from losing her head by blasting another suit with a well-aimed arcane bolt. When the three of them were once more the only things moving, Lily had run to Jowan, losing herself in his arms and crying.

Nereus could only look away. It was clear that she was willing to risk anything to save him. It burned him to know that _he_ would be the cause of their tragic ending. He worried at his lip, wondering if he should just come clean with them. But what would that do? It would serve no purpose. They would still be caught.

Jowan would still be made Tranquil.

 _Besides_ , he thought to himself, leading the way once more. The battered remains of the sentinels were littered all around him. _Lily might kill me before the templars get us._

While he felt nothing but dread over the knowledge he’d betrayed his friend, he felt a much stronger sensation to survive. Traitor he may be, but a dead man he was not.

* * *

 

Passing through the seventh door, Nereus started wondering just how far under the tower they were. It sat just a little ways off shore in Lake Calenhad. He wondered if they were even within range of the tower now. It was entirely possible that they were surrounded by water on the other side of stone.

He heard Jowan swear behind him, jarring him from his thoughts. He saw more sentinels ahead, including one that had magic at its beck and call.

“This again?” Jowan growled, stepping forward. A flame lit in one of his raised hands. “Alright, who wants their hair on fire?!”

Nereus grinned. He’d never seen his friend so riled up and ready to fight. Stepping back into a casting stance, Nereus joined him in the attack. In less than a minute, the three of them had cleared the room of sentinels. Tired as they were, they still managed to improve their attacks. They coordinated well together.

Having taken down the guards, they advanced. Before they could round another corner, another sentinel revealed itself in a surprise attack. It hit Jowan, who was the closest, slashing at his side. The dark haired mage went down with a cry, prompting Nereus and Lily to react. Lily rushed to his side while Nereus snarled a curse, snaring the fiend with a crushing prison and shattering it.

Turning from his handiwork, Nereus saw Jowan leaning against a wall with Lily pressing her hands to his side.

“Ow, ow, ow! Bloody… that hurt!” His entire right side was coated in blood and he was gritting his teeth in pain.

“Thank the Maker you’re alive,” Lily was whispering, holding her hands against the flow of blood. “It doesn’t look deep, but we’ll need to stop the bleeding.”

Tears were forming in the corners of his eyes, but Jowan somehow managed to turn his grimace of pain into a smile. “Of course I am! Oh, _ow_ … it just got my _side_.”

Nereus sighed in relief. _Don’t._ He reminded himself brusquely. _He’s still going to die. Just not like this._ He squashed the voice down and knelt by Jowan’s side. “Lily, move.”

She glared, but did as he asked. He observed the wound as best he could through the blood and the torn robe, and then held his hand over it. A white light poured forth from his palm and was absorbed by the wound. Within seconds, the injury had been reduced to a thick scar.

Standing again, he held a hand out for Jowan. He accepted it, rising as well and looked over his new scar and torn robes.

“Thank you. I didn’t know you could heal.” He said, astonished.

Nereus shrugged. “Nothing fancy. But I can stop you from bleeding out. Probably.” He let out a heavy sigh and started walking again. “Let’s go. It can’t be far now.”

 

After passing through one more door, they found themselves in a room filled to the brim with arcane artifacts. The room was completely jam-packed with statues, chests, books, and any manner of strange, foreign objects.

There was also no other door to be seen. It was both a relief and a complication. They would need to find another way into the repository.

They split up, each of them combing through the room for a sign that may lead them to their destination.

There were so many chests full of strange and unique items. Nereus let his curiosity get the better of him. He started opening chests, going through their contents at his leisure and pocketing a few small things. The First Enchanter had said he’d be rewarded, after all. _Might as well get started._ In time, he found a blackened heartwood staff. It was beautifully crafted, inscribed with runes all around it and absolutely _thrumming_ with power.

Looking at the staff he already held, Nereus decided he would pass the old one onto Jowan. He’d probably need it.

Passing through most of the room, he eventually spotted a statue with strange features. It immediately drew his attention and he made a beeline for it, passing by Jowan in the process. He heard his friend moving behind him, probably following him due to his single minded approach of the statue.

He could feel it watching him. He didn’t know how, but it was. His eyes widened when it began to speak, the blue of his irises almost entirely consuming his pupils.

_“Greetings.”_

He heard Jowan gasp. “Maker’s breath! Did it just say something?!”

The voice was as light as air. _“I am the essence and spirit of Eleni Zinovia, once consort and advisor to Archon Valerius. Prophecy my crime, cursed to stone for foretelling the fall of my lord’s house.”_

Nereus was ecstatic. They didn’t hear much about anything from the Imperium. They learned basic history, but other than that, the northern empire was blacked out in their books. Likely because the Chantry didn’t want mages getting any crazy ideas in their heads about silly things like _freedom_.

“Archon Valerius?” He intoned, almost reverently. If the statue was truly as ancient as it seemed, it must be a true font of knowledge. He could feel every bone in his body singing over the chance to acquire some of that knowledge.

That seemed to be enough to prompt the statue into speaking again. _“‘Forever shall you stand on the threshold of my proud fortress,’ he said, ‘and tell your lies to all who pass…’ But my lord found death at the hands of his enemies and his once-proud fortress crumbled to dust, as I foretold.”_

A gasp sounded behind them, signaling Lily had joined them. “A Tevinter statue! Don’t listen to it! The Tevinter lords dabbled in many forbidden arts! This is a wicked thing!”

It didn’t _feel_ wicked. Nereus reached out, touching the weathered stone of the statue. “It must be very old…”He flinched back when he found that it was not cold, but warm. “How did they do this? Is she still… alive?”

 _“Weep not for me, child. Stone they made me and stone I am, eternal and unfeeling. And I shall endure ‘til the Maker returns to light their fires again.”_ The voice informing him was peaceful, as if the speaker had no care in the entire world. He supposed that was exactly the case.

“What’s that even mean?” He asked, wondering if it were part of some prophecy.

Jowan snorted. “Ambiguous rubbish. It could mean anything. I can do it too: The sun grows dark, but lo! Here comes the dawn!”

“Stop talking to it. Please, both of you.” Lily sounded terrified.

Nereus sighed. It didn’t seem to be saying anything else. He felt that it was no longer interested in them. He spared the statue one more look before turning away. He handed the old staff to Jowan, who looked befuddled by the exchange.

“Got a new one,” he explained, waving the heartwood staff as he walked past.

* * *

 

After some time searching, they’d found an old, crumbling wall partially hidden by a bookcase. It looked like it may have originally been a door before it had been paved over. Whoever had done the job had been a poor worker. It looked like the brick could easily be damaged and have the passage reopened.

Nereus didn’t think he and Jowan had enough power to just blast through the wall, at least not without destroying a lot of the surrounding area. They needed a more precise way to hit it.

It didn’t take long to find something to aid them. Yet another Tevinter artifact, the strange beast-like statue nearby could be used to amplify magic. Nereus still held the rod of fire. He wasn’t so great at fire spells himself, so he opted for the rod instead of using his own abilities.

Lily and Jowan stood a ways back. Holding the rod out in front of him like a staff, he set his hand on the statue. The power rushed though him like a river. He could feel it tingling all over his body. Focusing on the rod, he aimed at the crumbling wall and blasted it with fire. Rocks flew everywhere, but the surrounding area remained intact. They had a way into the repository.

Of course more sentinels awaited them. They were _so close_ to the end. It was almost a struggle, but the chance of victory kept them strong enough to smash through the enchanted armor with ease.

They stepped over the dismembered plate armor and found rows and rows of phylacteries, stored appropriately for each delicate vial. Each was labeled clearly with the name of the apprentice to which it belonged, making it easy for them to pick out Jowan’s.

He held it in his hand, staring at the dark red contents with a look of wonder. “So fragile, so easy just to be rid of it… to end its hold over me…” His fingers twitch and it falls to the frozen floor. With the slightest sound, it shatters, the small amount of blood freezing to the tile. “… and I am free.”

* * *

 

They were able to exit the repository through the door that had first vexed them. The enchantment on the door was broken when they opened it from the inside. Lightning raced across its surface in flashes before the energy ebbed away. They passed through unharmed.

Less than a minute away from exiting the dark chambers beneath the tower, Nereus felt the guilt clawing its way up from his stomach. The templars would be waiting for them. He knew – he _hoped_ – that Irving wouldn’t let them take him, but he feared being revealed in front of his friend.

 _Maybe it would be best to tell him now._ His fist was clenched around the heartwood staff in a death grip. Surely they could see how nervous he was?

The final door was within sight. He took a breath, prepared to confess.

He froze.

They reached the door.

Jowan inhaled, then let out a sigh as they climbed the stairs. “We did it! I can’t believe it. Thank you… we could never have –“

His relief was cut short by the sound of armored templars approaching. Knight-Commander Greagoir lead the contingent of templar knights, motioning for them to block the exits. The First Enchanter was present as well, walking beside Greagoir and watching the three as they exited the basement.

Greagoir halted, then took a step forward, shaking his head as his eyes landed on Lily. “So what you said was true, Irving.”

Lily gasped, moving to stand behind Jowan. “G-Greagoir.”

“An initiate, conspiring with a blood mage. I’m disappointed, Lily.” He moved closer, his eyes narrowing as he inspected her. “She seems shocked, but fully in control of her own mind. Not a thrall of the blood mage, then.” He shook his head again, disbelief and disgust coloring his face. “You were right, Irving. The initiate has betrayed us. The Chantry will not let this go unpunished.” His eyes centered a glare on Nereus now. “And _this_ one, newly a mage, and already flouting the rules of the Circle.”

For a moment, he worried that Irving had betrayed him.

“It’s not his fault!” Jowan shouted defiantly. His heart sank at the display. “It was my idea!”

“Jowan, please-“ he tried to stop him; he looked to the First Enchanter, his eyes pleading him not to say a word.

Either he mistook his meaning or he did not care.

The First Enchanter stopped Greagoir before he could speak again. “He is here under my orders, Greagoir. I take full responsibility for his actions.”

“W-what?” Jowan sounded broken, slowly turning to look at Nereus, his eyes disbelieving. “Nereus… what does he mean?”

“I tried to tell you-“ he began, desperate. He hadn’t wanted it to be like this.

“Enough!” Greagoir shouted. “As Knight-Commander of the templars here assembled, - I sentence this blood mage to death.” Two templars began advancing at his words, their motions careful and trained. “And this initiate has scorned the Chantry and her vows. Take her to Aeonar.”

Lily stiffened. “The… the mage’s prison?” She shook her head and started backing up. “No, _please_ no… not there.”

It happened quickly.

One moment, Jowan was standing in shock. The next, his face was contorted with rage.

“No! I won’t let you touch her!” He produced a hidden dagger out of his robes, stabbing it into his hand. Flinging his hands in front of him, a wash of blood and raw power took out Irving, Greagoir, and the templars before they could advance on him and Lily.

The armored men rolled on the ground, moans wafting up as they struggled to gain control of themselves. Jowan dropped the knife and turned to face Lily and Nereus.

Lily practically fell over herself trying to get _away_ from him. “By the Maker… _blood magic_. How _could_ you? You said you never!”

Jowan tried stepping closer to her, shaking his head pleadingly. “I admit, I dabbled… I thought it would make me a better mage.” He had tears in his eyes. “I was afraid they’d make me Tranquil if I wasn’t strong enough for the Harrowing!”

 _Ironic_ , Nereus thought, the shock finally wearing off. He felt sick again. He’d _defended_ him. Risked his life for him on a lie. He all of a sudden felt very justified for revealing the escape to Irving.

“Blood magic is _evil_ , Jowan. It corrupts people. Changes them.” Lily was equally tearful now. She wasn’t going any closer to Jowan.

“I’m going to give it up. _All_ magic. I just want you to come with me. Please Lily!” He was begging her, occasionally sparing a glance to the weakened templars. They were starting to become more active, gaining control of their limbs.

Lily stopped her retreat. “I _trusted_ you. I was ready to sacrifice everything for you… I… I don’t know who you are, blood mage. Stay _away_ from me.” She turned her back on him, facing the wall.

For a second, it looked like he might stay to convince her. Then, seeing the templars recovering, Jowan ran.

When he lost sight of the man he’d once called his friend, Nereus carefully stepped around the fallen templars, moving to Irving’s side and helping the old man stand. Greagoir was the first to recover and he went around helping his men to their feet. A few of them were sick and had to remove their helms to vomit.

“I knew it… _blood magic_. But to overcome so many… I never thought him capable of such power…” Greagoir was shaking his head, looking around the room to assess the damage. There was blood everywhere, but thankfully none of it had been spilled by anyone present.

Nereus shivered. He’d _never_ have believed Jowan capable of such power. It truly spoke of the danger and allure behind blood magic. Jowan had always been a weaker mage than him. If _he_ could overpower so many templars, men who were trained to _dispel_ magic, it made him wonder.

“None of us expected this. Are you all right, Greagoir?” Irving, too, seemed shocked by the outcome.

Greagoir glared at the old man. “As good as can be expected given the circumstances! If you had let me act sooner, this would not have happened! Now we have a blood mage on the loose and no way to track him down!” He turned, shouting at his men. “Where is the girl?!”

Lily stepped forward from the corner she’d been hiding in. “I… I am here, ser.”

“You helped a blood mage! Look at all he’s hurt!” Greagoir towered over her, waving his arm out at the men who were still recuperating.

Nereus felt awful. She hadn’t known. She’d been betrayed, just like him. “Greagoir, she didn’t know.”

She silenced him with a sharp look. “Save your breath. I can speak for myself.” Steeling herself, she looked up at Greagoir. “Knight-Commander… I… I was wrong. I was accomplice to a… a blood mage. I will accept any punishment you see fit. Even… even Aeonar.”

The Knight-Commander sneered at her. “Get her out of my sight.”

Two templars approached her; one held shackles. They placed them on her wrists. Lily kept her head down, her eyes hidden by her bangs as they led her from the hall.

Now Greagoir whirled to face Nereus. “And you. _You_ were in a repository full of magics that are locked away for a reason.”

Irving sighed, stepping to stand beside Greagoir to assess the younger mage. “Nereus, did you take anything from the repository?”

 _If he can’t tell, he doesn’t need to know._ “No.” He said it without hesitation, looking the other man square in the eye.

Irving evaluated him for a moment before nodding. “Okay. I believe you.”

“But your antics have made a mockery of this Circle! Ah… what are we to do with you?” Greagoir seemed to be losing some of his steam. He looked tired.

Nereus realized it was _way_ past dinner and he was starving. “Look, I didn’t _want_ to do this. I was just doing what Irving told me to do.”

The First Enchanter nodded in confirmation. “As I said, he was working under _my_ orders.”

The Knight-Commander let out a huff of impatience. “And this _improves_ the situation? The phylactery chamber is forbidden to all save you and me!”

Irving held his ground. “I had my reasons.”

“You’re not all-knowing, Irving! You don’t know how much influence the blood mage might have had. How are we to deal with this?”

It looked like the two of them were about to start another argument. Nereus was starving. He didn’t want to stick around for his. Still, he knew he couldn’t leave until the matter was resolved.

Suddenly, they were joined by two unexpected faces.

“Knight-Commander, if I may…” Dunacn interjected, stepping up to the two arguing men. “I am not only looking for mages to join the king’s army. I am also recruiting for the Grey Wardens.” He looked back at Nereus and smiled warmly. “Irving spoke highly of this mage, and I would like him to join the Warden ranks.”

Leif was by his side, his face grim. Nereus wondered if they’d seen everything. He hadn’t been looking for them. He’d been too concerned with himself and Jowan.

Greagoir seemed outraged. “What? You’ve promised him a new Grey Warden?”

The elderly mage shrugged. “He has served the Circle well. He would make an excellent Grey Warden.”

 _Is this to be my reward?_ Nereus wouldn’t put it past the old man. He must have spoken with Duncan after Nereus had left him earlier.

“We look for dedication in our recruits. Fighting the darkspawn requires such dedication, often at the expense of all else.” Duncan seemed adamant in his effort at recruitment.

The Knight-Commander didn’t seem to care. “I object! You say he operated under _your_ instructions Irving, but I do not trust him.” His face was red with rage as he glared at the young mage. “I must investigate this issue, and I will _not_ release this mage to the Grey Warden.”

He _really_ didn’t want to deal with this.

“You know what, Greagoir? If the Grey Wardens will have me, I’m theirs.” He went to stand beside Leif, levelling his own glare at the templar.

His action made Greagoir take a step toward him and it looked like he was going to grab him with an armored fist. Duncan blocked him.

“Greagoir, mages are needed. _This_ mage is needed. Worse things plague this world than blood mages – you know that.” The Warden stood straight and tall under the scornful gaze of the Knight-Commander. “I take this young mage under my wing and bear all responsibility for his actions.”

“This mage does not _deserve_ a place in the Order.” He looked like he was about to spit fireballs.

The First Enchanter stepped in. “Why? Do we not reward service? This mage has served the Circle well.” He smiled beatifically at Nereus. “You have an opportunity few even dream of. Do not squander it.”

He’d lost some amount of respect for the old mage when he’d ordered him about and used him to betray his best friend. Still, he wasn’t going to mess up his one chance to escape the Circle with _permission_.

“Alright, so, Grey Warden it is.” He said, standing straight and gripping his new staff tightly.

Irving nodded. “Yes. Be proud, child. You are luckier than you know.”

 _Perhaps I am._ “Great. This is great.” It wasn’t how he’d expected the day to end, but it wasn’t really a bad way to go.

Duncan put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. “You will carve out your own place in this world. Come, your new life awaits.”

Looking at Leif and expecting some kind of comment, he was surprised when the dwarf simply shrugged and started walking.

He followed behind him, not really feeling the urge to collect his things from his temporary dorm. He hadn’t had much when he’d come to the Circle anyway. He hadn’t kept anything from his family and he saw no point in carrying a few extra sets of robes.

With a heavy heart at both the betrayal he himself had suffered, as well as the one his friend endured, Nereus followed the Grey Warden and his recruit, leaving the tower for the first time in years.

It was raining.

 


	7. Two of a Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duncan reflects on his successes so far and wonders about what is to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sort of a filler chapter to bridge the gap between the last chapter and the one after this.

\----------------------

9:30 Dragon, Draconis 7th

\----------------------

 

 

It was still raining.

They’d left the tower that night in the wake of Jowan’s betrayal. The docks were carved into the rock base that the tower was built upon, forming a cavernous cove that served as the entrance to the Circle of Magi. There had once been a bridge that connected the old fortress to the mainland; the remains of an ancient venture between the Avvar and dwarves. It had fallen into disrepair over the centuries until it was no longer salvageable. Most folks on the surface had little knowledge of dwarven engineering and architecture, so no moves were ever made to remake the old bridge.

When Duncan had led his recruits down below, they’d found the ferryman knocked unconscious and one of the boats used for passage was missing. The Warden had helped the man recover, telling him he was lucky to have survived an attack from the blood mage, and told him to remain at the Circle. He and his recruits took a second boat, promising to have someone from the far side of the docks return it.

They’d crossed the dark surface of the lake with rain on their heads, drenching them to the bone. Nereus had closed his eyes, a serene smile in place as he’d tilted his head up into the storm. Leif had grouched, huddling under an oiled blanket to protect himself from the downpour. Duncan found himself amused over their different reactions to the act of nature.

 

Both of them had lived lives isolated from the surface world. Belowground, Leif had never known the light of the sun. Locked in the Circle tower, Nereus had been denied its light as well. Snow, rain, hail; neither of them had been touched by it until he’d taken them from their homes, rescuing the both of them from imprisonment and death.

The difference was that the mage had once known the freedom of the surface world. Before his magic had manifested and he’d been stripped of his humanity in an effort to “protect” those fearful of his gift. Leif, on the other hand, was experiencing everything for the first time. Some parts he seemed to enjoy; like the sun.

 

The dwarf had cringed, guarding his squinting eyes from the harsh light in the sky. He’d gotten sick more than a few times, eventually choosing to stare down at the ground instead of looking all about in wonder as he had before. He was much more adjusted after a few days. He seemed much more relaxed at night, saying he could imagine he was still underground.

Then he’d seen the stars.

After a long, sleepless night of stargazing, he was completely at ease in the open world. He looked at every animal, every tree, flower, and insect with equal amounts of awe in his bright green eyes.

Duncan had never seen someone so in love with the world.

 

When they’d left the tower, he’d seemed much less in love with the rain. The young dwarf had been thankful for the respite given to them by The Spoiled Princes. The rustic inn was the only building nearby the stoic Circle tower. Many lived far from the old fortress, preferring to give the mage tower a wide berth. The Spoiled Princess thrived on the business brought on by the local templars and the occasional passersby. Families visiting their mage children occasionally stayed at the inn, but that was much less likely.

The three of them had shuffled indoors, soaking wet and freezing. The innkeeper had sighed, grabbing a mop, bucket, and some towels and trudged over their way. When he’d spotted Duncan’s Warden armor, he’d been thrilled to bits.

He’d offered them his best rooms at a more than reasonable price. Duncan had paid him double for each and asked for hot meals and towels for the three of them. The man had all but tripped over himself getting everything ready for them.

Their night at the inn had been quiet and uneventful.

No one present had heard or seen anything about an escaped mage.

 

* * *

 

\----------------------

9:30 Dragon, Draconis 8th

\----------------------

 

 

After their night at the inn, the rain had eased up. The ground was hard with ice that crunched under their boots as they headed north, for the coastlands. Within hours, everything from their knees down had been caked with mud and bits of loose greenery. It was still cold, but that was to be expected. They were hardly out of winter and spring wouldn’t begin to show itself in earnest for at least another month or two.

For the first few hours, they’d been silent. He supposed Nereus had a lot to think about after the events at the tower. It was likely that Leif was silent for similar reasons, but he could not be sure.

When they’d first arrived at the Circle, he’d asked Irving about potential recruits. All before the Knight-Commander had burst into the room in a fit about the mages at Ostagar. The First Enchanter had told him of Nereus Amell, the young mage who had just passed his Harrowing. He’d set a new record at Kinloch Hold, having been in the Fade for under four minutes before returning triumphant in his mastery over his powers.

Within hours of meeting the potential recruit, Duncan had been approached by Irving over another matter. One of his students had turned to blood magic, an act reprehensible by most morals, and Nereus was going to help the other mage in an escape attempt. He didn’t want Nereus punished, asking that Duncan be present when the mages were caught so he could recruit him before the Knight-Commander had him arrested. Duncan had sensed the scheme the First Enchanter had been a part of, but he’d agreed nonetheless.

He _had_ asked for a recruit, after all.

So he and Leif had silently followed the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander when they’d gathered their templars. Observing from the shadows, the two rogues had watched the whole thing play out, all the way down to the templars’ defeat and the blood mage’s escape. When Greagoir had tried to act against the young mage left behind, Duncan had stepped forward.

He knew the look of betrayal as well as any. Nereus had not believed his friend to be a blood mage. Duncan hadn’t missed the look of hurt the young man had aimed against the First Enchanter, either. There was clearly some ill will between the two mages that hadn’t been there when he’d first been present. It seemed many things had changed in the tower in the time he’d been there.

Not having good memories of the tower himself – well, maybe a _few_ – Duncan had been all too happy to leave as well.

* * *

 

Now they were a long way from the tower. If they were lucky, they’d reach West Hill in a few days. Until then, it was a life on the rough road for him and his recruits. He knew Leif could take the strain. He’d put the young dwarf through an arduous trek through the Deep Roads on their way to Kinloch Hold. They’d been lucky and hadn’t come across any darkspawn during their time, but they’d run into dozens of packs of deepstalkers.

Nereus though… the mage was already lagging behind, leaning on his staff more and more as they went on. He sighed. Of course there wasn’t exactly room for exercise in the tower. He doubted anyone wanted to make that a priority. After all, it might give them a better chance at escape.

River Dane wasn’t much further. They could rest and set up camp there. He couldn’t expect the young mage to keep up with him and Leif quite yet. He’d have to slow their pace a bit, but he knew it would be worth it in the end. Irving had told him about the traps in the basement of the tower. While he hadn’t been alone, it was clear that Nereus had played a pivotal role in his friend’s break-in of the repository.

Slowing his walk to match the younger man’s, Duncan nodded at Leif to do the same. They were walking three abreast on the well-traveled road now.

Nereus noticed, directing a half-hearted scowl at Duncan. “Don’t slow down on my account, old man. I was right behind you.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Duncan replied cannily. “ _Behind_ being the prominent word.”

Leif snorted.

Nereus frowned. “ _Excuse_ me for not being up to your standards of health. We mages don’t exactly get our daily dose of sunshine and exercise, you know.” He sniffed, leaning on his staff pathetically. “We begin to wilt, you know. I’m only shocked I haven’t completely withered away under this punishing pace.”

“You know, there was plenty of room in those old caves,” Leif supplemented with a frown. “Why don’t you mages get some exercise down there?”

Duncan wondered when Leif had found the time to go exploring in the caves. He’d been so focused on observing the other inhabitants of the tower; he’d thought Leif had been in the room asleep the whole time. He’d certainly been there when he’d later returned.

Nereus shrugged. “Probably just another excuse to keep us boxed up.” The mage let out a huff, blowing at some hair that had come loose from his long braid. “You know, we _used_ to get sunshine and exercise. I’m not sure if you noticed, but there is a bit of a lawn out front. Or, well, it’s really just stone that’s covered in moss and weeds.”

Leif laughed at the description. “Oh, in that case, there are plenty of _lawns_ in the Deep Roads. Not Orzammar, though. Too hot for most green things.”

“I take it someone made an escape attempt?” Duncan asked. If they’d once been allowed outside, it only made sense that someone had used that chance to get away.

The mage nodded. “Right you are. We were always under templar supervision, mind you. Still, one of the apprentices was rather… _bold_ , let’s say. He’d run past the templars and leapt into the lake, fully clothed. One of the templars was so shocked he’d tried to go after him, forgetting he was wearing full plate.” A dark smile crept across the mage’s thin lips. “Oh, he didn’t drown. Almost. He got lucky. Anders, though – ah, the apprentice I mentioned – he’d made it clear across the lake.”

“Hm,” Duncan nodded appreciatively. “Quite the strong swimmer, to have braved Lake Calenhad.”

“Especially around the tower,” Nereus agreed. “The rocks there are quite treacherous, I hear.”

Leif asked the question that Duncan had been wondering about. “Did he get away?”

Throwing his head back to laugh, Nereus said, “Oh, _no._ No, he did not.” His blue eyes were shaded by some unknown emotion. “No, he never gets far.” Sighing dramatically, he finished his story. “And that was the end of our outside privileges. Instead of punishing one cheeky mage, they punished everyone. Typical Chantry response.”

That ended the conversation for a time. Nereus was clearly brooding over the injury mages suffered at the hands of the church. His sardonic manner of speech clearly carried over into his anecdotes, giving Duncan a fairly clear picture of the sort of man he was. The young mage was very bitter, but there was an undeniable sense of empathy in the way he spoke of others like him. He cared deeply for the pain of mages and felt only resentment towards those he viewed as their oppressors.

Duncan hoped that his distaste for Chantry law would warm him up to the idea of being a Grey Warden. As a Warden, he could live freely as a mage without fear of the Chantry branding him as an apostate. Not only that, he would have sanctioned access to new schools of magic. The magic learned in Circles was always preapproved by the Chantry, meaning that thousands of spells and teachings from around Thedas were completely unknown to mages at the Circle. Their power was truly limitless, but the Chantry put them in cages, regulating their knowledge and power.

Having worked with so many Warden mages over the years, Duncan had a great admiration for mages and their abilities. He hoped that Nereus would prove to be an asset. If his barriers were as good as he claimed, that would certainly be a great boon in the fights to come.

* * *

 

At last, River Dane was before them.

Duncan and Leif set up camp while Nereus watched. He’d clearly never set a tent before, so Duncan didn’t expect him to be of use right away. After he and Leif had pitched their own tents, he showed the mage how it was done. He’d purchased more camping supplies at The Spoiled Princess, so the three of them would each have a private space to sleep.

It took a few tries, but eventually the mage seemed to get the hang of it. He even looked proud of himself for having set up his own tent.

“Nereus, I know this is all new to you.” The mage seemed to pout in response to the attention, but he continued speaking. “I know you’ll catch on in time. I won’t push you too far, but don’t expect me to go easy on you, either.”

“You don’t have to go easy on me, Duncan.” Nereus looked serious. His light brown hair was disheveled, his robes rumpled, and his boots caked in mud. He looked like a mess, but he seemed at ease all the same. “I wanted out. You got me out. I’ll hold up on my end. I’ve got a lot to learn and a long ways to go… but I’ll get there. I won’t be a burden.”

The older man smiled. “I know. I just wanted to let you know where you stand.”

He had nothing to worry about. Leif had already proven himself ready for the challenges that lay ahead. Now he knew Nereus would do the same. He’d chosen well for his first two recruits. He looked forward to continuing the trend. He’d already picked up one recruit in Highever months ago, but he was hoping to find another. Ser Jory had done well in the tourney, but Duncan had started having doubts about the knight after bringing him to Ostagar.

Perhaps he’d have better luck this go around. Taking Nereus’s pace into account, he estimated they’d reach Highever in a little over a week. He knew Teyrn Cousland was going to be bringing his men down south soon, but he expected to arrive before then so he could get a good look at potential recruits.

Until then, he’d do his best to mentor the two he’d already picked up. Similar as they were in a basic sense, he had the distinct feeling there was a lot more going on under the surface. He expected he’d learn more about them soon enough.

After all, the road ahead was long. They still had some ways to go.


	8. Living the Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Couslands prepare to enter the war in the south. The appearance of Warden Commander Duncan and his recruits makes things interesting.

\-----------------------

9:30 Dragon, Draconis 16th

\-----------------------

 

 

“My lady, I’m afraid our lessons have been canceled for the day.”

Adoracia perked up at the sound of Ser Gilmore’s voice. She had just come down to the sparring grounds for her weekly practice with the knight. She was even fully dressed in the armor that her mother insisted on her wearing for such things. Normally she would skimp out on it in favor of something less restricting, but her parents had become more prone to stepping in to watch her practice.

Her lips twitched into a frown as she surveyed the knight who had just delivered the news. Ser Gilmore was one of her father’s most trusted vassals. He’d been sent to squire at Highever when he was a child by his father and he had quickly proved himself to be an honest and loyal man in later years. Now a knight, he has been tasked with teaching the teyrn’s youngest the ways of combat and has been doing so for a few years. At first Adoracia had been opposed to the idea of learning combat skills, but she knew that it was normal for Fereldan nobility to have knowledge of arms. Then there was the fact that as he’d grown up, young Roland Gilmore had turned out to be _very_ handsome.

As a child, he’d been such an awkward, gangly thing. Then again, Adora herself had been the same. Of course no one would dare tell her that and so naturally she’d already thought the world of herself. It wasn’t until she had truly begun to come into her womanhood that she’d realized how dreadful she’d been. It was also around that time Roland had been knighted, having also grown into the man she now saw before her. She’d been more than a little embarrassed by how she’d teased him when she’d been just as awkward as a youth, so she’d kept her distance from him. That was until a few years ago when her parents had insisted on her learning how to defend herself. So she’d been stuck with Ser Gilmore, both of them being forced to make the best out of the situation.

It was a shame that their lesson was canceled for the day. Her father and brother were supposed to be leaving for Ostagar soon and they would be bringing much of Highever’s military might with them. She was afraid that Ser Gilmore would be among those who left, but she could not be sure. There was no way she was going to ask her father about that, anyway. She wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea, after all. Even if she _did_ have some small spark in her chest when he locked his eyes on hers… no, it didn’t matter. She was the daughter of one of the highest noble families in Ferelden. There was no way she could even consider a match with a knight of some lesser noble house.

He’s staring at her now and she realizes she hasn’t replied to his statement. Her cheeks flush slightly and she shifts to adjust some straps on her armor. They’re fine, of course.

“Why? Is something amiss?” She asked at last, wondering why one of her favorite activities was no longer available to her. It wasn’t as if the _fighting_ part was her favorite. Far from it. She was dreadfully bad at it, anyway. She just couldn’t get the hang of the weight behind the blades.

Ser Gilmore shook his head, his coppery hair looking more vibrant than usual in the winter sun. “No, nothing at all. Your father sent a messenger for you, but you had not joined us yet.” He motioned towards the heart of Castle Cousland. “He’s waiting for you in the throne room. I’ve heard that he has some important guests.”

“I see…” She said, trying to think about what her father could possibly want her for. He wasn’t leaving for Ostagar until morning. She thought he’d be busy making the final preparations until the brink of dawn. “Thank you, Ser Gilmore. Perhaps I will see you later?”

The knight nodded, smiling at her with warmth in his kind brown eyes. “Of course, my lady.”

Returning the smile with one of her own, Adoracia turned on her heel and set off to meet with her father. He would simply have to deal with her in her armor rather than in her usual splendid attire and styles.

* * *

 

It was only a little unexpected when she found her father to be speaking with Arl Howe of Amaranthine. She hadn’t seen the man in some time, but his face was a hard one to forget with his hawk-like nose, beady eyes, and all around predatory look. He was always a bit creepy to her. Despite that, he was polite enough and his children were nice as well – although she hadn’t seen _them_ in many years. Her father was speaking quietly with the man, but he looked up at her approach with a smile in his eyes.

The hall was massive, but a large fire in the stone hearth kept the northern chill at bay. Torches lined the walls, adding an orange glow to every corner of the room. Great tapestries and furs from massive beasts adorned the walls, punctuated with portraits of the Cousland family dating back centuries. Adoracia always felt a swell of pride in her chest when she entered the massive chamber.

Her father stood before the fire and the arl stood with a few of his men, their backs turned to her as she entered the room.

"I'm sorry pup, I didn't see you there.” Teyrn Bryce Cousland waved for his daughter to join them and then looked to his friend. “Arl Howe, you remember my daughter?"

The arl looked her over appreciatively, allowing a small smile to grace his pinched features. “I do. I see she's become a _lovely_ young woman. Pleased to see you again, my dear.”

Adora did her best not to gag and instead smiled politely, inclining her head as a greeting. “And you, Arl Howe.”

The arl returned the smile, although she wondered if he perhaps sensed her unease. “My son Thomas asked after you. Perhaps I should bring him with me next time.”

Thomas was his youngest child, younger than Adora herself by a few years. She’d never really gotten to know him. Delilah, Howe’s daughter, had always been her playmate as they’d both been about the same age. Nathanial Howe was the oldest and had always been her brother’s friend. They’d pulled an endless amount of pranks on Adora and Delilah during the summers they’d spent together. Nathaniel had been sent to squire in the Free Marches some years ago and Delilah and her had drifted apart even before that.

She had no desire to see Thomas presented to her as a suitor, if that was what his father was implying.

“I would like to see Thomas again, Arl Howe. Perhaps we could make it a reunion and you could bring Delilah and Nathaniel, as well. However, I admit I have no interest in an arranged marriage.” The best thing was to be blunt. She would not have her father and his friend conspiring behind her back.

Besides, if she had to choose between any of the siblings she’d choose Nathaniel. He was handsome, looking nothing at all like his father. Thomas, on the other hand, looked far too much like his father for Adora’s liking.

The teyrn’s gray eyes lit up with laughter as he gave his daughter an affectionate pat on the shoulder. “See what I contend with, Howe? There is no telling my fierce girl anything these days, Maker bless her heart.”

The arl did not seem amused, but smiled anyway. “Quite talented, I’m sure. One to watch.”

Adora’s brow wrinkled slightly at his comment. He clearly didn’t like his unsaid proposal being rejected.

Her father interrupted her examination, his strong voice commanding attention from whomever he was speaking with at any time. “At any rate, pup, I summoned you for a reason. While your brother and I are both away, I’m leaving you in charge of the castle.”

The weight of the responsibility left her stunned for a moment. _Me, in charge?_ She could hardly believe it. Would not her mother be more fit for such a task? She wondered what her father could be thinking to leave her in charge. Was it some kind of test, perhaps, to see how she might rule if left to her own devices? Too many thoughts were swirling around in her head. She needed to take action.

“Are you certain?” She knew immediately that it was not the sort of response she should have had in front of Howe. He already seemed to be searching her for weaknesses. Why she thought that, she could not say.

Still, her father smiled, clearly confident in his choice. “Only a token force is remaining here, and you must keep peace in the region. You know what they say about mice when the cat is away, yes?” He turned slightly to address one of the soldiers standing guard. “There’s also someone you must meet. Please… show Duncan and his companions in.”

The man saluted the teyrn and marched off to retrieve the special guests. Adoracia could only imagine what sort of man this Duncan must be to elicit such a reaction from her father.

She was not left to wonder for long, as three men walked in. Well, two men and a dwarf. The oldest man looked a little younger than her father, with dark skin and black hair that was graying around the temples. He wore the blue and silverite armor that was reserved for Grey Wardens and walked with a calm, measured gait, keeping perfect pace with both of his companions. The other man was pale with light brown hair pulled back into a braid and he wore mud spattered robes that spoke of his status as a Circle mage. The dwarf was blonde with a tattoo on his cheek and his mismatched armor was dented and grungy. Adora hoped that their stay in Highever would entail some kind of upkeep and bathing.

Clearly the Warden was Duncan, her father’s important guest. “It is an honor to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland.” He bowed his head slightly, and then gestured to his companions. “May I introduce my newest recruits, Leif and Nereus? This is Leif’s first time seeing the hall of a human lord.”

“Ah, is it now?” Teyrn Cousland smiled broadly, nodding his head to Leif, who returned the motion. “I welcome you both. Anyone chosen by Duncan to become a Warden must be exceptional. Is this your first time being on the surface?”

The dwarf seemed nervous, Adora thought, but he answered her father promptly. “Thanks for saying so. It’s been a little over a week since I’ve been on the surface, but it’s not bad. Your castle almost reminds me of home.”

Her father nodded sagely, as if he’d expected such a reaction. “I can imagine it must be unnerving to experience such a change. I am pleased you can find some small comfort in my home, as you are more than welcome to it.” He directed his smile at the mage after that. “Did you come from the Circle, Nereus?”

The mage nodded his head and he returned the smile with one of his own. He was quite handsome, Adora had to admit. He’d probably look better if he washed the wear of the road away.

“Indeed, I have. I must say, it’s an honor to be in your home. Highever is a beautiful land. Your Lordship is quite lucky.” He spoke smoothly and with great confidence. He seemed perfectly at ease.

“Your Lordship,” Arl Howe seemed agitated by the discussion, perhaps over his lack of involvement in it. “You didn’t mention that a Grey Warden would be present.”

“Duncan arrived just recently, unannounced.” The teyrn explained, his brow furrowing slightly in response to the tension in his friend’s voice. “Is there a problem?”

The arl chuckled lightly, trying to dissolve the pressure he’d put on the conversation. “Of course not, but a guest of this stature demands certain protocol. I am… at a disadvantage.”

This seemed to satisfy her father’s query, as he nodded and faced Adoracia once more. “We rarely have the pleasure of seeing one in person, that’s true. Pup, Brother Aldous taught you who the Grey Wardens are, I hope?”

Adora straightened her posture, having relaxed slightly since the conversation had been turned from her for a moment. She nodded her head, expecting her braids to brush against her neck before remembering they were wound tightly around her head in preparation for sparring. “Of course. They’re an order of great warriors, founded during the First Blight to combat the darkspawn.” She was adept in her studies, at least, if nothing else. She’d always been fascinated by history and now she was face to face with a legend. “The Wardens have only recently been reaccepted in Ferelden. I imagine your numbers cannot be as high as you would like, considering the circumstances.”

Her father seemed pleased with her response, as did Duncan himself. “You imagine correctly. Without their warning of the darkspawn rising now, half the nation could have been overrun before we’d had a chance to react. Duncan is looking for recruits before joining us and his fellow Wardens in the south. I believe he’s got his eye on Ser Gilmore.”

Adora kept her face neutral in response to her father’s statement, doing her best not to react. He’d been watching her face to see if the name would get some kind of response. Of course he’d noticed how she practically mooned over the knight. Of course he would want to rub it in her face that it wasn’t going to happen. As if she hadn’t already accepted that.

“If I might be so bold,” Duncan’s voice cut in, drawing her eyes away from her father. “I would suggest that your daughter is an excellent candidate.”

Surely her expression of shock must match that of her father’s; although this was clearly for different reasons. Adora did not see herself as a warrior, though she was dressed in the attire of one at the moment. Perhaps he misunderstood based on her appearance? No, anyone who knew her was aware that she had been groomed to be nobility. If she was lucky, she would take after her mother and find a good man to settle down with and together they could rule over an arling. It was unrealistic to believe she could have anything more than that.

“Honor though that might be,” her father’s words were clipped as he positioned himself to stand a little more in front of Adora, blocking her from Duncan’s view. “This is my _daughter_ we’re talking about.”

Smiling benignly, Adora spoke up. “On a side note, I have no interest in becoming a Grey Warden. I’m not really the heroing type.”

Glib as her admission was, her father was still very protective of her. “Do you hear that, Duncan? My daughter is not interested. So unless you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription…?”

She didn’t think it likely that he truly thought her worthy of being a recruit. It was likely an idle, yet ill placed compliment that her father was taking too seriously.

“Have no fear,” Duncan was perfectly calm, as if he’d been expecting the storm her father would bring to his daughter’s defense. “While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I’ve no intention of forcing the issue.”

Adora frowned, pondering his words. _Had he been serious, then?_ She was no warrior. Yes, she trained, but she couldn’t possibly be mistaken for someone who could fight monsters… could she? _Perhaps as a Grey Warden he sees more than most_. Even if that were the case… no, she could not be that sort of person.

Duncan’s retraction of his suggestion was enough to assuage her father of his fears. He nodded curtly to the Warden before turning to face his daughter. “Pup, can you ensure that Duncan’s requests are seen to while I’m gone?”

She bobbed her head without a moment’s pause. “Of course. Whatever he needs.”

“In the meantime, find Fergus and tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me.” He gripped her shoulder, smiling tightly. He obviously had a lot of worries on his mind and his spat with Duncan, minor as it was, had worn him down.

“Any idea where I can find him?” It sounded like she’d best be quick. The sooner her brother was on the road, the more ground the men could cover before dark. If it was a Blight as the Wardens feared, then the situation at Ostagar was dire and they would need as many men as possible to combat the threat.

“Upstairs in his chambers, no doubt, spending some last moments with Oren and Oriana.” He squeezed her shoulder before letting go. “Be a good lass and do as I’ve asked. We’ll talk soon.”

He was clearly trying to get rid of her so he could speak with his guests in private. She was happy to leave him to it. Arl Howe had always managed to unnerve her, even if she’d enjoyed spending time with his daughter in the past. The Warden made her nervous in an entirely different way. His eyes were so intense, focused, as if he were able to see things that others could not. He seemed like a good man and it was clear that her father respected him. Still, she didn’t like the idea that he could see something in her that she could not.

She nodded and turned to leave the hall before Duncan spoke up. “My lord, if it isn’t too much to ask, could your daughter perhaps see to it that my recruits have proper lodging? Our journey has been long, with little time for rest and maintenance. They could use some time to recover before we move on.”

Her father paused before replying. “Of course. Pup, please make sure they are taken care of. Perhaps take them by the armory, if you will. See to it that they have their armor and weapons repaired and cared for before they leave.”

“I’d be happy to,” Adora said, smiling at the two recruits as they stepped forward to follow her. “Please, this way.”

Leading the mage and dwarf from the hall, she dared not spare another glance at the three men as they spoke. She wanted out of there as quickly as possible, but she took care not to walk faster than the two men. They seemed to be coming along just fine. She expected they must have done a lot of walking between Orzammar, the Circle, and Highever.

It certainly looked like the poor men hadn’t had much rest, at least. Both of them were quite disheveled; the dwarf more so than the mage. His hair was dirty, tangled, and barely recognizable as the dark blonde it appeared to be in the light of the fire. His armor was spotted with blood, rust, and lots of wear and tear. If she knew how long the two of them and Duncan would be staying, she’d be happy to commission a new set of armor for Leif if they had the time to spare. She doubted there was any armor fit for a dwarf in Highever’s armory. Perhaps some might be available at the market. She’d have someone check after getting them set up with some baths.

The mage didn’t look like he’d seen battle, but he was still quite dirty, likely due to his trek from the tower. Lake Calenhad wasn’t exactly a day trip away. Even if they’d stuck to the North Road, it would have taken them over a week to reach Highever from the lake. Some rainstorms had passed in that time and it looked like they’d passed through the worst of it. She’d have to have both men’s clothes laundered for sure. 

* * *

 

With the heavy door to the main hall closing behind them, Adora let out a small sigh of relief. There was a tension in the air, filling the room like fog. It had preyed on her and she’d felt nervous in the presence of so many powerful personas.

“Well, gentlemen,” she wasn’t quite sure how to address the recruits. Neither of them were Wardens, yet. Did either of them possess some sort of title? Surely Duncan would have mentioned one if that were the case. “Let me also welcome you to Highever. I am Adoracia Cousland.”

Leif looked up at her with weary green eyes. Tired as he was, his eyes still managed to shine through the dinge like emeralds.  “Thank you… uh…” he hesitated on his next words, seeming almost shy. “I’m not used to this… What do I call you? ‘My lady’?”

“That would be the proper title, yes.” Nereus responded attentively. “Teyrns and teyrnas are the highest of nobility in Ferelden; just under the king. Lady Cousland goes by a diminutive title in comparison to her parents. Her brother is a lord and her parents should be referred to as ‘your lordship’ and ‘your ladyship.’”

She couldn’t help but laugh. Truly, she hadn’t expected the mage to jump in with such an introspective response.

“Normally, perhaps. However, I believe I would like you to call me ‘Adora.’” She smiled, showing that she meant no harm with her laughter. “In truth, I was having the same wonder. I am so used to titles surrounding everyone. It’s odd to meet strangers with nothing more than a name.”

The dwarf’s shaggy brows drew together slightly before his expression relaxed. “Adora, then. Name’s Leif Brosca, by the way. Not just Leif. You can call me… just Leif, I guess.”

“Just Leif, it is.” She winked, before finally turning to his companion. “And you, Nereus? Is that what I should call you? I confess, I’ve never met a mage before. Does the Circle bestow a title upon you?”

The mage shook his head. “Sadly, no. I petitioned them to call me ‘Your Excellency’ but they weren’t having it.” He sighed dramatically. “No one there appreciated my talents. I simply couldn’t take it anymore. Duncan saw my woes and - seeing what an incredible asset I would be - whisked me away posthaste.”

Leif snorted, rolling his eyes. “He almost got arrested, is what he means. Just like me.”

The mage shot a cerulean glare down at his companion. “That is _not_ what you say to a lady.”

Adora was only slightly shocked by the dwarf’s admission. She’d _heard_ the Grey Wardens recruited criminals, but she hadn’t thought the two polite men would be such miscreants.

 _I suppose you can’t judge a book by its cover._ After all, she didn’t know _why_ the both of them had nearly been arrested. If a Grey Warden considered them worthy, perhaps it was a misunderstanding.

The blonde seemed to realize his mistake due to her silence. “Uh, we aren’t… well, he isn’t…” He grumbled under his breath, trying to find the right words.

Nereus sighed. “What he _means_ is that we aren’t callous thugs out to harm the innocent. Well, _I’m_ not. I don’t know what _he_ did to get here.”

“That.” Leif grunted, before adding, “And I’m not. Out to harm the innocent, or whatever.”

For some reason, she found their banter oddly charming. “I’ll take your word for it, then.”

Clasping her hands behind her back, she began leading them through the winding corridors of the keep. “First we’ll get you two rooms. You’re in luck at the moment. Normally you’d have to share. However, we have very few guests at the moment.” It should be simple enough finding them quarters near each other. After all, she didn’t want them getting lost. “Let’s see. A nice, scented bath would do you both some good, I’d wager. I’ll have someone fetch your armor and clothes while you bathe.” She caught a look of alarm on Leif’s scruffy face, but she smiled and continued. “Do not worry. You will each have a robe and slippers while you wait for your clothes to be laundered. I’ll see if I can send someone to the market, as well. I’m sure some merchant has clothes appropriate for dwarves. Perhaps even some armor. I’m afraid yours may not be salvageable at this point.”

“Ah, if you would be so kind,” Nereus chipped in. “Would it be possible to have some armor fitted to me, as well? Perhaps something light.”

It was an unusual request, coming from a mage. Then again, their robes probably weren’t much help if someone shot an arrow at them. “I certainly could. I will pass on your request.”

Leif didn’t say much while she and Nereus chatted idly back and forth. The mage was very forthcoming and prone to theatrical exaggeration. He was charming, for sure. She’d expected a mage to be more awkward and more of a bookworm. The bedraggled brunette conversing amiably at her side was anything but. He was downright charismatic.

The dwarf, on the other hand, was completely silent by her side. Not that he would have reason to say much, of course. She doubted he’d ever been waited on in his life. It was in his eyes. She’d seen that look so many times before. He’d clearly been treaded on by nobility for most of his life. He probably didn’t trust her and she could hardly blame him.

She’d read about how things in Orzammar were. They had a wretched caste system, putting people in slots they’d decided were determined for them before their births. Then there were those that fell between the cracks, those who didn’t belong to caste or house. She didn’t know what the meaning behind the tattoo on his face was, but she knew the only dwarves with brands on their faces were casteless.

Nereus, though, seemed right at home. He walked tall, with confidence and grace. His unkempt appearance seemed to have no effect on how he acted. He spoke like a scholar and a nobleman both. She wondered if he’d come from a noble family before being sent to the Circle. He informed her that, in fact, he had. Of a sorts.

“My mother was nobility, back in Kirkwall. She’d had an affair, like many nobles, and I’d been the outcome.” He informed her of his past lightly, as if it were no more important than the weather.

“Oh,” she said, stunned by his openness. “Is that how you ended up in Ferelden? Because you were the product of an affair?”

The mage shook his head, his blue eyes reflecting some emotion she couldn’t place. “No. She’d raised me with her betrothed, as if I were his. Then my magic showed itself. The Amells had never showed magic before. After the affair was discovered, she was sent away; disowned, of course. They’d hoped that it had been a fluke, that it was nothing in their bloodline. Her uncle had been considered for Viscount until then. Everything fell apart after that.”

 _How can he be so candid about such a tale?_ She risked looking into his eyes again and saw that she was very wrong. Now she could see the bitterness and resentment in his eyes. “Do you… blame magic for what happened to your family?” She wondered how he’d ended up in the Circle. Had his mother just given him up?

“No,” he said softly. He raised the hand that wasn’t carrying his staff and ice danced along his fingers. It was truly a beautiful spectacle. She even spotted Leif watching the display. Nereus closed his fist, causing a small shower of snowflakes to drop down on their heads. “I could never blame something so wonderful, could you?”

Adora didn’t know what to say. She’d never seen magic before. What he’d done had been so simple, yet so enchanting. He hadn’t even blinked. It was as natural to him as breathing.

“I blame superstition,” he continued, not content to wait for an answer. “Magic is a gift. It is also a tool, like any other. No one should be punished for simply possessing it.”

That seemed to be the end of the discussion. Adoracia found herself to be mighty curious about the guests in her family home.

* * *

 

In the time it took for her to reach the guest quarters, she’d found an elven servant to send down to the markets with some coin and another to draw baths ahead of them. By the time they’d walked through the first door, a bath was already steaming and scented with comfrey, crystal grace, and elfroot. A wool robe lay folded on the bed with a pair of matching slippers.

Leif was the first to speak. “I think I’ll take this one.” His tone brooked no argument. He was clearly done with walking.

Nereus pouted, but stepped out the door to wait.

Adora suppressed a small giggle. “Any belongings you do not need laundered or repaired may be placed in the chest at the foot of the bed. It will not be touched,” she assured Leif, motioning to the chest in question. “As for your clothes, armor, and weapons, please leave them on the desk nearest the door. You will not be disturbed during your bath.” She watched as he wandered through the room, staring at each detail with a wary eye. “Hopefully my people will have found appropriate clothing by the time you are finished. If not, there is the robe. You may also find books-“

“I don’t read.”

She paused, cursing herself silently. Of course he didn’t. She should have known. She had just been rattling off the same words as if he were any other guest. “My apologies. In that case there are… maps?”

The dwarf chuckled darkly, looking up at her with sad amusement in his green eyes. “Right. Well. Thank you for the tour, Adora.” He started peeling off his armor, groaning slightly at hidden injuries. “I think I’d like that bath now.”

“Of course,” she nodded, stepping back through the doorway. “Please, enjoy your stay. If you have need of anything, ring the bell for a servant. They will get to you in due time.”

He grunted in response, already beginning to settle his busted armor on the desk. Nodding once more, Adora quickly closed the door behind. Nereus was watching her with a wolfish grin. Suddenly, he reminded her of her brother. She took the opportunity to shuffle him over to the next room.

Like the one she’d shown Leif, the room had a private bathing room with a similar bath already drawn and scented with herbs and flowers. The same robes and slippers lay waiting on the bed. She spared him the rundown she’d already given his companion.

“I trust you know what you must,” she inquired, watching him drift into the room. He nodded and she stepped towards the door. “I’ll send someone to fetch you to be fitted with armor. Until then, please relax. I’m sure your journey has been stressful.”

“Thank you,” he said softly, shooting an alluring smile her way. She shouldn’t have blushed, but she did and he grinned. “I’ll see you around, Lady Adora.”

Clamping her lips closed before she could say something rude, Adora quickly excused herself and reentered the hall. As she returned to her former duties, she reflected on the men she’d just escorted.

The dwarf looked like he’d been to the Void and back. She couldn’t imagine the hardships he must have faced. Whereas Nereus had clearly not lived a life of luxury, he still found ways to poke fun at life regardless of his circumstance. Both men had come from a life of adversities. She doubted life would be better among the Wardens. Anyone who had to fight monsters for a living was going to be seriously messed up, one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally introducing the very first Warden I ever played. Adora was my first Dragon Age character, so she holds a special place in my heart.  
> Three Wardens introduced now. In a few more days we should get to the final Warden!


	9. Grow Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adoracia performs a few errands and reflects on the day. Fergus leaves for Ostagar and things begin to wind down for the night.

\-----------------------

9:30 Dragon, Draconis 16th

\-----------------------

 

 

There were rats in the larder.

Nan had been screeching for someone to deal with a hound for a while before Ser Gilmore had tracked Adora down again. Together, they trekked over to the kitchens to find that it was Adoracia’s mabari that had found her way into the larder. At first she’d seen nothing, but she knew Lady wouldn’t break in just to steal some cheese. After a moment’s silence, huge rats, like those out of a story had come pouring out of every corner, swarming the three of them.

Adoracia had screamed, naturally, prompting her hound to come to her defense as the dog tore through the rodents with an amount of viciousness that she seldom showed. Ser Gilmore had taken down his own fair share and Adora eventually had the sense to stick a few of them with her blade as well. It had taken less than a minute, but it had given the noblewoman quite the fright. She’d never seen rats so large before. She’d only heard tales of rats like that supposedly living in the Korcari Wilds down south.

Once it was all over, Nan had rewarded Lady for her brave campaign against the true villains in the larder. Adoracia had smiled and shepherded herself, Lady, and Ser Gilmore out the door before the old woman could change her tune.

Ser Gilmore had chosen that moment to take his leave.

“Seeing as how you’ve gotten your mabari well in hand, I’d best be on my way. I’m to prepare for the arrival of more of the arl’s men.” He’d bowed his head and set off down a separate corridor, leaving Adora with Lady.

She had frowned at his departure, but she knew he had duties with more importance than accompanying her on her errands around the keep. She hoped that they would at least find the time to spar later. The ordeal with the rats had her thinking about taking her weapons studies more seriously. They’d only been _rats_ , but they’d been so awful. She’d never killed anything until then.

Scratching Lady’s ears thoughtfully, she wondered about Ser Gilmore’s interest in the Wardens. He’d seemed so thrilled at the possibility that Duncan might be there to observe and recruit him. Adora had smiled and encouraged him, agreeing that he would be an excellent Warden.

For just a moment, she’d considered asking him about leaving _her_ behind, but she knew better. They weren’t as close as she would have liked. Besides, she knew that Ser Gilmore held duty and honor above all else. It would be such an _honor_ to join the Grey Wardens. He would be a part of a sacred _duty_ to protect his home from the monstrous darkspawn. Potential infatuations could not possibly compare to such things.

Lady whined and nudged her hand, jogging her out of her lovesick thoughts. She grimaced, embarrassed that her _dog_ had to remind her to get back to her errands.

After all, she had to find Fergus.

* * *

 

Naturally, she’d found her mother first. She was entertaining Lady Landra and her son, Dairren. She’d met the both of them at her mother’s spring salon the year before. The poor woman had been well into her drinks and been trying _very_ hard to convince Adora to marry her son. Dairren had, of course, been mortified and insisted that his mother should be ignored. Adora had readily agreed and wandered off to find someone less intoxicated to speak with.

Now it seemed she was ready for round two.

“You remember my son, Dairren? He’s not married yet either.”

She didn’t miss her mother’s amused smirk, her dark eyes lighting up with bottled laughter.

Dairren attempted to save his mother from further embarrassment, stepping forward and nervously interjecting. “Don’t listen to her. It’s good to see you again, my lady.” He smiled disarmingly, even nodding to acknowledge Lady when she let out a short bark. “You’re looking as beautiful as ever.”

 _Flatterer_ , she thought, but smiled and said, “Thank you.” Dairren was… sweet. She couldn’t deny that. It wasn’t as if he was unattractive, either. She just felt nothing when he crooned poetry at her during their walks through the garden.

“Give him a chance,” her mother had said at the salon. She’d been pushing her for months to entertain the various suitors that came seeking her hand. So Adoracia had been the dutiful daughter, rolled her eyes, and been perfectly pleasant and charming to each and every one of them before sending them away.

Perhaps Lady Landra was catching on after all, as she then introduced her handmaiden, a lovely elven woman by the name of Iona.

The blonde woman blushed when her mistress pressed her to speak. “It is a great pleasure, my lady.” Her eyelashes fluttered prettily, the motion amplifying her large, pale blue eyes. “You’re as pretty as your mother describes.”

“You would think that would make it easier to make a match for her, not more difficult,” the teyrna was quick to add. There was just a touch of annoyance in her tone in regards to her daughter’s stubbornness.

Adora smiled in response, uncaring over her mother’s “hardship.” She was pleasantly surprised when Dairren came to her defense.

“Perhaps your daughter simply has a mind of her own, your Ladyship.” He smiled at Adora as he said this. “You should be proud.”

Now she was wondering if he’d said that because he believed it or because he thought she wanted to hear that. She hoped it was the former. Regardless, it would not move him higher in her heart.

Eleanor Cousland sniffed at the comment. “Proud doesn’t get me more grandchildren.”

This was enough for Adora to sigh. “Please, Mother. I can handle my own affairs.”

“All evidence to the contrary,” her mother replied with a dash of humor in her eyes.

Lady Landra excused herself then, not wanting to intrude on the affairs of another family any further than she already had. Dairren was also quick to make himself scarce, not wanting to test the waters any further. Iona left with him for the study and at last, Adora was alone with her mother.

Well, aside from Lady. She knelt down to lather her hound with affection once the three guests had taken their leave.

“What a sweet girl you are; yes, you are!” Lady barked happily in response and licked her owner’s neck affectionately.

“Adoracia,” her mother sighed, moving to sit at a bench in the nearby alcove. She sounded tired, but pleased.

While her mother disapproved of her choice to turn down every man sent her way, she likewise approved that her daughter held herself to some kind of unknown standard. Adora knew that and she felt that she needn’t explain herself. Besides, she didn’t know where to _begin_ explaining herself. She wanted to marry for love, she truly did. Her mother and father had, after all. However, she knew it very likely wasn’t in the cards for her. Instead, she would settle for a comfortable marriage. As the daughter of the teyrn and teyrna of Highever, she was just under royalty in terms of nobility. She could marry no higher unless the king decided to take another wife. He’d already married the daughter of the only other teyrn in Ferelden.

 _That’s not going to happen,_ she thought with a frown, ignoring her mother’s summons and continuing to love on her dog. Teyrn Loghain had no other children and there were no other teyrns beyond that of her own family. She would have to be content with marrying into an arling. After all, she doubted she’d have courtiers from other nations. She hadn’t exactly made a name for herself.

“ _Adora_ , please.” Her mother sounded exasperated. Lady whined and nudged her in the direction of the teyrna and she sighed before rising and moving to join her in the alcove.

Her mother proceeded to fuss with her hair – it was falling out of the braids that she’d wrapped around her head, probably due to the ‘battle’ with the rats. She closed her eyes and relaxed, letting her mother tuck the vibrant red locks back into place before she felt her begin unravelling her hair altogether. Opening her eyes with a befuddled look in place, she turned and looked into her mother’s gray eyes, the eyes that matched her own. They were like a storm ready to break over the horizon, appearing so calm from afar, but busy with emotion up close.

“My darling girl,” she breathed, combing her hands through her daughter’s auburn waves. “You’re so beautiful. I swear, I looked just like you when _I_ was seventeen.”

Adora smiled and turned her head back so her mother could continue playing with her hair. “I know, Mother. I saw the portraits.”

She was always being told time and time again that she was the spitting image. She could see it, even now. Her mother was so stunning, even young knights couldn’t help but stare as she glided past them. Eleanor Cousland was the very picture of elegance and strength combined. She’d been a fierce competitor in tourneys when she was younger, having even fought her share during the war against Orlais. While she now claimed that she had only landed a husband after putting aside her bow, Bryce Cousland contested that it had been her skill _and_ beauty that had won him over.

Eleanor no longer had the deep red hair of her youth, but that was no detriment to her loveliness. Her thick grey hair was always portrayed in the most fashionable styles, always in looping braids, buns, or intertwined with decorative jewels. She unsurprisingly imposed these very same fashions on her daughter, who didn’t mind for even a moment.

Adoracia loved the fine things in life. Beautiful dresses and surcoats, gowns, cloaks, gloves, jeweled slippers. Her sister-in-law often joked that she would fair far better in Antiva or even Orlais. While she secretly agreed, she could not imagine her family allowing that to happen. The Couslands belonged in Ferelden.

“You should go find your brother and say your goodbyes,” her mother said softly, her fingers dancing through Adora’s hair as she fixed it back into braids wrapped around a bun.

She’d always been better at braiding and styling hair. It was no wonder her braids from earlier had fallen loose. Her mother was always fixing her hair for her, so she never put as much time into it herself.

 “Who knows how long he’ll have to spend in Ostagar. I know he’ll miss you dearly.”

It was more likely that he’d miss his wife and child. And a warm bed. She and Fergus were close, for sure, but she didn’t believe for a moment he’d be thinking about her. He’d have bigger things to worry about.

Like darkspawn.

“Mother, did you know there’s a Grey Warden here?” She asked, turning to face her when she sensed her hair was done. “He brought a dwarf from Orzammar and a mage from the Circle as recruits.”

Her mother’s perfectly arced brows didn’t even twitch. “Did he now? The dwarves of Orzammar do have the most experience against the darkspawn. Outside of the Grey Wardens themselves, of course. And I’m sure the powers of a mage would be very useful against such creatures.” She paused, her eyes searching Adora’s. “You aren’t thinking of signing up, are you?”

“Maker, no!” She exclaimed quickly, her eyes widening. “No. I want no part in fighting darkspawn. I’ll leave that to Father and Fergus.” Her eyes flicked away momentarily. “Father thinks Ser Gilmore may be recruited.”

“Ah.” Just the one sound. “He’s an accomplished knight. The Grey Wardens would be lucky to have him.”

 _Anyone would be lucky._ “Yes, I suppose they would.” Suppressing another sigh building up in her chest, she rose from the bench. “I’ll go see Fergus now. Father has a message for him.”

* * *

 

Chatting with Fergus’s family was always a joy. Oren was always so excited about everything, curious to know every little thing about everything. He thought the world of his father. Oriana was always so pleasant and polite. She and Adora had many similar interests and she was always thanking the stars that Fergus had fallen for such a wonderful woman.

He’d been so wild when they were younger. Their parents had thought he would never settle down. He was always traveling, writing home about new people he’d met and how he’d narrowly escaped trouble once again. When he started writing about some Antivan beauty, they had all thought it another passing infatuation.

Then one day he brought Oriana home. By the end of her first week in Highever she’d charmed everyone. The teyrn and teyrna had practically begged her to marry Fergus, afraid that he might still change his mind. She’d taken pity on them and agreed. That, or she somehow loved Adora’s oafish brother.

 

 _Of course she loves him_. She smiled, watching as they embraced in front of all the men ready to march to Ostagar. There was that special thing between them. Everyone could see it in their eyes when they watched each other. It was the same way her mother and father looked at each other.

 _I want that_.

Fergus had kissed his wife goodbye and the men cheered him on. Oriana was mortified, of course, but she’d still planted an extra kiss on his cheek. He’d swung Oren around in the air and the young boy’s laughter rang out across the yard while his mother watched anxiously. Fergus had never dropped his son, but he still joked that it was going to happen. He feigned dropping him, prompting a gasp from his wife, and then gently set him on the ground. Ruffling Oren’s dark hair, he moved on to his parents, embracing his mother.

“Be well, my son. I will pray for your safety every day you are gone.” Eleanor was saying, hugging him tightly before brushing his chestnut hair out of his eyes.

He kissed his mother’s forehead. “I love you, too, Mom.”

Looking to his father, he grinned and said, “I’ll try not to lead them astray for too long. You’ll still have some catching up to do by the time you leave, I promise.”

His father laughed, clasping him to his chest, then pulling away to grin up at his son. “You’d better already be there by the time I leave. I’ll ask Cailan.”

“Oh, and he wouldn’t _dare_ lie to you!” Fergus joked, laughing as he moved on to his sister.

Adora looked up at her brother and smiled. He was the perfect son to their parents and the perfect brother. He was going to be fine… wasn’t he?

“It’s going to be so boring without you here,” Adoracia teased. “It’s going to be so quiet and peaceful I just won’t know what to do with myself.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’m sure I’ll freeze in the southern rain and be completely jealous of you up here, warm and safe.” He laughed, pulling her closer for a hug. “You’ll take care of them while I’m gone, won’t you Adora Bell?”

She blushed at her brother’s use of her nickname, but nodded. “Of course, Brother. They’re my family, too.”

“You’re damn right.” He kissed her forehead, just like he’d done for their mother, and then turned to join his men and lead the march to Ostagar.

* * *

 

Adoracia watched them until they were a thick line in the distance. A feeling of unease settled in the pit of her stomach. She’d never been alive in a time of war. This didn’t _feel_ like a war, though. Everyone was so optimistic that it would turn out to be nothing. She couldn’t help but think that it could never be so simple when everyone was praying that it would be just that.

The sun was beginning to set. Highever Castle had an excellent view of the nearby coast and it always seemed to be in the twilight hours that Adora could smell the scent of the sea and the flowers that grew on the cliffs. Dawn and dusk were her favorite times to be out on the battlements. It seemed that Highever could go on endlessly, wherever she looked, even into the Waking Sea.

Her father had recommended she go to bed early, but she was not tired. Tomorrow the Grey Warden would be testing the mettle of the men and women left in Highever. She would likely be saying goodbye to the one man she’d ever taken any interest in. She _knew_ nothing could ever happen. It still hurt to think that she must say farewell to the fantasy as well.

Footsteps scuffing the granite drew her attention to the stairs close by. She relaxed when she saw it was Leif, the dwarf. He was clean now, his blonde hair looking a little orange in the light of the setting sun. His beard was neatly trimmed and he wore a fresh set of clothes that were just slightly too big on him.

Adora smiled. “I see my people have found something proper for you to wear. Did they have any luck with finding you new armor?”

The dwarf nodded and she noticed that he appeared quite a bit younger now that he was clean and dressed properly. “Yeah, actually. It’s uh, really nice. Thank you.”

She motioned for him to join her. He’d have a clear view over the coastal plains, even at his short stature. “Nice? I do hope it fits. I can’t imagine there’s a lot of dwarven armor to find out here.”

He gave her a strange look before chuckling quietly. “Oh wow. You’re really… You’re actually not bad.”

Her narrow brows drew together in confusion. “Pardon? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Leif shook his head a few times, his green eyes sparkling out at her. “I know. That’s okay. I mean, what I mean is…” He paused and took in the view while he pondered his next words. “It really is nice. I’ve never used anything as nice as what you and Duncan have given me. It’s weird, I dunno.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t sure what to say about that. “Um. Well, I’m glad I could provide a new experience for you. I’m sure the Grey Wardens have some nice uniform armor for you to wear when you get to Ostagar. They seem to have excellent smiths, so I’m sure it will be much better.”

His blonde hair waved about in the cool northern breeze as he shrugged, still admiring the land. “I guess so. Still, just wanted to say thanks. You didn’t have to go out of your way like that.”

“I wanted to,” she admitted with a small smile. “You looked so downtrodden. I couldn’t stand it. I wanted to give you something nice.”

His head whipped around and his face held an unreadable expression. They stared at each other for a moment, moss green eyes locked on stormy gray. Adora looked away first.

“I’m sorry. That must sound awful.” She wondered if her honesty had offended him. She hadn’t meant to, it had just come out. She could feel him staring at her and she grew more embarrassed.

“Thank you.” His gravelly voice held true gratitude and she looked down at him in shock. “Really. I didn’t know that humans could be so, well, _noble._ ”

She laughed lightly. “My father always told me that it isn’t a title. It’s an aspiration. Nobility isn’t just about lording over the lower classes. It’s about protecting, leading, and inspiring your people.” Her eyes searched the horizon again. It was dark, but the edge of the world still glowed with the last light of the day. “I only hope I can be as great as him one day. He and my mother have done so much for this land. I know I’ll never be teyrna. My brother will be teyrn if anything should happen.” Her stomach flipped at the thought and she clenched her first. _Maker, don’t let anything happen._ “I just hope that should I ever hold any land or title that I can be someone inspirational.”

Leif was quiet for a few moments and she was glad of it. She was sure she sounded like a fool. She’d never admitted those things to anyone. Never before had she spoken of what _she_ wanted. Those feelings had always been buried deep inside and she’d only repeated what she knew others expected to hear. Why she was saying these things to this stranger, she did not know.

“You’ll be a great ruler.” He turned around and started for the stairs. “Anyway, I’ll see you in the morning. Thanks again.”

Left in confusion again, she wished him well and watched him go. He was strange for a dwarf. She’d only ever met merchants and smiths before. Now she wished more casteless had the strength to come to the surface. She believed he was a good man and if good people could come from such an awful place, she wished more would join her world.

She was afraid. Afraid that all the good men would die and they’d be left with no one to save them.


	10. Someday is Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Highever is attacked and Adoracia must find a way to save what is left of her life.

\------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Draconis 16th

\------------------------

 

 

Lady was warning her.

Adoracia had just retired to her room after darkness had fallen. She was in the midst of removing the armor she'd been wearing all day. It hadn't been used, so it didn't need any extra care, luckily. Having already removed the leather gloves and vambraces, she was starting on the pauldrons when her dog started growling at the door.

Looking up from her undressing, she froze and trained her attention on the door. She heard the sounds of shouting and fighting. It took her a moment to decipher the noises as an attack and not the normal sounds of men training that she was used to.

Immediately reversing her actions, she quickly began to redress her armor situation. She had just gotten her gloves back on when she heard someone banging on the door. She grabbed the sword and daggers from the weapon stand and moved behind the door, motioning for Lady to hide.

She looked down and saw that the door was not locked, as she'd never had reason to start locking it. The enemy must have caught on, because they tried the handle and it opened. Her room was well lit and she saw that this man did not wear the Highever colors with his armor. There was a crest on his shield, but she couldn't see it clearly. He looked around the room, sword drawn, before he saw her.

"Not asleep? Well, that's too bad." He laughed; his rough voice grating on Adora's ears for all of five seconds before Lady charged.

The man went down with a yelp as he struggled to dislodge the war hound from around his neck. She wasn't getting past his gorget, so she switched to his unprotected face. Adora winced, looking away as the man screamed.

 _He'll bring more, you fool!_ She realized with a start. He was making a _lot_ of noise. Setting a determined face, she drew her sword from its scabbard and looked down at the man who had invaded her home.

"Lady." The command was in her name and the hound halted her assault, moving aside to reveal the ruin of the man's face. He was crying now, gurgling obscenities obscured by the blood filling his throat.

She swung the sword down with all her might; the blade stuck in the armor, her swing not quite powerful enough to slice through clean. Adora panicked when the man resumed screaming in earnest. She struggled to wrench the blade free, stumbling when it finally did. He was trying to move away from her and she couldn't help but see the deep dent that was now crushing his throat, causing his screams to bleed into moans.

Steeling herself against the sight, she took a shaky step forward and brought her sword down again and again, until she'd finally hacked through the steel, ending his torment.

Her heart was pounding heavily in her chest and she felt something wet on her face. For a horrible moment she imagined it was the man's blood, but when she turned to see her reflection in her vanity, she saw tears.

_What have I done?_

She'd just murdered a man.

 _An invader,_ her mind insisted, ever the voice of reason.

Wiping at her tears, she looked back to the corpse ruining the beautiful throw rug on her chamber floor. Now that she could concentrate, she finally saw crest on his shield. The bear was no mystery to her. It belonged to the Howe's of Amaranthine.

An arrow whistled by her ear, missing her by a hair. She whirled, blindly flinging a dagger in the direction of the archer. The man went down with a cry and she saw her dagger sticking out of his throat. She stepped back, and then rushed forward to take the dagger from the corpse. She replaced it in its sheath and surveyed the damage she'd done.

 _I did that?_ She had never thrown a blade with such accuracy before. Ser Gilmore had always told her she was overthinking her actions; that she needed to let them flow through her as easily as she breathed, as if her weapon were an extension of her being. _Is this what he meant?_

More screams. She shook herself and looked around, scanning the hall for more soldiers. Lady barked behind her, but it was a sound of joy. Adora turned to see her mother had emerged from the hall leading to her room. She was dressed for battle, her old armor fitting her as perfectly as if she were born to it, with a bow in hand and a quiver on her back.

"Adora!" She called out, relief coloring her voice. Jogging to her daughter's side, she drew her into an embrace. "Oh, my girl. Are you alright? Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, numb with relief that her mother was there with her. "No. I hadn't gone to bed. Lady warned me. I…" Her eyes widened as she looked down to the man at her feet. "I killed them. They were going to… _Howe_ lied!"

Eleanor saw the shield that marked the soldiers as the arl's men and gasped at the implications. "You don't think Howe's men were delayed… on purpose?" Her eyes narrowing, hardening with rage. "That _bastard_! I'll cut his lying throat myself!"

"I'll hold him down," Adoracia offered, glaring down at the dead man. She looked past her mother to the empty bedroom. "Where's father?"

Her mother shook her head, her gray eyes now leaden with worry. "He never came to bed."

"Damn," she swore, turning when she heard the sound of armored footsteps approaching. "We have to find him!"

Lady barked; the sound was a warning to whoever was coming their way. Two more of the arl's men entered the hall, swords at the ready and shields held before them. The men nodded to each other and crept forward cautiously, eyeing the dog as she growled and paced with them.

"You ladies shouldn't be out this late. " One intoned, a malicious grin spreading across his pale face.

His partner laughed. "Why don't we take you back to your rooms? We'll keep-"

His offer was cut short by an arrow to the face. He went down with a hideous shriek and before his partner could react, the other man was brought down by another arrow.

Adora looked to her mother as she lowered the bow. Eleanor nodded at her. "We should check on Oriana and Oren. Maker, I hope she barred the door…"

Her brother's room was at the other end of the hall. The door was closed and they could hear no sounds within. Adora pushed gently at the door and found that it was unlocked and had not been closed all the way. A fist closed around her heart. Lady whined softly at her side.

"No!" Her mother's anguished cry hurt her ears.

Oren lay huddled in a corner, surrounded by a puddle of blood.

Oriana lay slumped over the edge of the bed on her stomach, her nightgown shredded all around her. Her head was smashed into the mattress, a gorey mess where her silky hair used to lay flat.

"Maker, no! My little Oren…" Eleanor's broken sobs echoed back in the stillness of the room. "What manner of fiend slaughters innocents?!"

 _I'm so sorry_. She'd told Fergus she'd protect them. Her legs felt wooden as she walked to the bed and carefully shifted her sister-in-law around. She laid her on her back, arms at her sides, legs closed and covered her body with the blanket.

Her mother was holding Oren's tiny body, holding him close and crying. She helped her stand and convinced her to leave Oren with his mother, covering the both of them with the blanket.

"Why would they do this?" She gasped quietly, closing the door behind her and her mother.

Eleanor shook her head, her eyes wild with mixed emotions. "Howe is not even taking hostages! He means to kill all of us!" Her eyes rolled in her head as she leaned back against the door, fighting the next barrage of tears that were on their way. "Oh, poor Fergus! My boy…"

She could still hear men fighting, the clash of metal striking metal echoing throughout the castle. "Mother, we must find Father." They had to move. If they could find their own men, rally their forces, perhaps they could stop the castle from being taken.

M _ost of our men are off to war, Adora Bell,_ her brother's voice crooned softly in her head. She scrunched her eyes closed and tried to block him out. It was her guilt clawing at her consciousness already. _What are you going to do with a few guards? You can barely fight._

 _No._ That would not be the case tonight. She would not bow down and cower before her enemies like some wilting, summer flower. She would fight. For the first time in her life she would fight with her heart and not with her mind. She would not falter and she would not go down quietly, into the darkness like poor Oren and Oriana.

_I will kill them._

Without waiting for her mother, she strode down the hall, away from the safety of locked doors and entered the chaos of the keep.

* * *

Howe's men were everywhere. Everywhere they turned they saw the bodies of Highever's people. To their credit, there were more of Howe's soldiers dead, usually two or three to each of the Highever men. It would have been heartening if Adoracia did not know how few men remained at the castle. She knew many of their faces, even distorted in a death mask as several of them were. It broke her heart to know just how many families were being destroyed in the night.

They'd deduced that her father must be at the front gates, likely trying his best to keep the main horde of Amaranthine's soldiers at bay. The best knights would be with him, guarding his side.

If he was not there, then he would be at the servants' exit in the larder. It was their only hope of escape if Howe had the place surrounded, as he likely did.

Adora had given up hope of securing the castle when she'd seen the havoc the traitorous arl had wrought throughout the castle. So many noncombatants had been killed. Children, servants, Brother Alduous; they had even killed the priestess in their humble Chantry.

Her mother had recommended they stop by the treasury to get the Cousland family sword. It was their family treasure and it would add further insult to their tragedy if Howe should get his hands on it as well. She wanted to save it, but she wanted to save her parents even more. The route to the treasury would be too dangerous. She left it behind.

On their way to the front gates, they'd come to the aid and likewise been rescued by many of their own soldiers. The more of them they could save, the better a chance they had.

They were just rounding another corner when they ran into the Warden recruits. Leif and Nereus both were in full armor and surrounded by a dozen dead Amaranthine soldiers. Leif was the first to notice them. His fierce eyes looked up at their approach and he lowered his blades.

Nereus sidestepped the corpses and approached them with Leif trailing behind him. "Adora, your Ladyship," he nodded to the both of them. "These cowards tried ambushing me in my sleep. Too bad for them I'm a light sleeper, hm?" He took in their pale, drawn faces and frowned. "Is there anyone-"

"No," Adora cut him off, not wanting him to ask. "Have either of you seen my father? Or Ser Gilmore, perhaps?"

"Duncan went to find your father," he recounted quickly. "I believe I heard Ser Gilmore was defending the front gate. We should hurry."

The redhead nodded curtly and the five of them fought their way through the few soldiers fool enough to intercept them on their way to the gate. Leif was a scrappy fighter, deftly weaving between enemies to stab at their weak points. Nereus was devastating with his magical attacks and his barriers kept them from harm. She was glad the Wardens had decided to stay for the night. Surely she wouldn't have made it so far without them.

After taking out at least a dozen more of Howe's men, they finally managed to get to the main hall. The guards recognized them and let them in, barring the door behind them.

"Lady Cousland! Teyrna! Thank the Maker you're-" The man's joy was short lived as a blast knocked one of the side doors open. He turned and ran towards the commotion without hesitation and was struck down by a crossbow bolt.

The other soldiers had also assembled in response to the uproar from the side door, many of them shouting battle cries as they went to meet the arl's men in combat. At least ten men had poured in through the breach, including one woman in the unmistakable robes of a mage.

Adora's eyes widened. The men were already locked in combat with the soldiers, but the mage was going to bring disaster upon them if she wasn't put down quickly. Her eyes leapt to Nereus, who nodded in understanding.

"This will be quick," he assured her, thrusting his staff in the direction of the other mage. The woman was lifted into the air by an unseen force and the staff she'd been carrying dropped from her trembling fingers. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out. Within seconds, her body had been crushed into an unrecognizable mess of blood, bones, and fabric; it dropped to the ground.

Adora shivered. Magic was truly terrifying if it could do damage like that.

Men fighting on both sides noticed the demise of the mage, several of them faltering in battle. Highever's guards took the initiative and struck down those who were distracted. After all, the mage had been the enemy – whatever had happened to her wouldn't be happening to them.

When it seemed they were gaining an advantage over the enemy soldiers, another group flooded in through the open side door, starting the battle anew.

Adoracia heard her mother swear as she took up position to rain arrows down on the arl's men. She saw Leif and Lady had already joined the fray and Nereus was back to casting spells, taking great care to avoid hitting the Highever soldiers with friendly fire.

The numbness from the shock of seeing what had happened to Oren and Oriana was beginning to wear off. She could still feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins, but she was suddenly terrified. Her hands gripped her weapons tightly, but they were shaking.

Cries of anger, pain and death were flooding her senses. Suddenly, she felt weak and wanted to do nothing more than curl up and hide.

Before she could do any such thing, she saw Leif take a hit to the shoulder and cry out.

She flung herself into the action.

 _These men are strangers and they are spilling blood for us._ They could have left. She knew that Grey Wardens didn't get involved in political disputes. The men of Highever were fighting for their own reasons. Loyalty, coin, to save themselves, or even because they had nowhere to run to. It was expected of them to fight. _Not these two, though._ She didn't know why they fought, but they were there with her and she couldn't stand by while they fought her battles for her.

Soon enough, she found herself at the dwarf's side. She was relieved to see that the armor had protected him, and then she was distracted by an axe coming her way. Leif blocked it and she took the opportunity to disable the arm holding it.

They fought side by side, their swords and daggers catching the light from the fire and sending arcs of red blood flying through the air. It only took a few minutes of fighting, but eventually the arl's men were defeated and the door was blocked with tables and benches.

"Go! Man the gates!" Ser Gilmore was barking orders at the remaining men, directing them toward the biggest threat. "Keep those bastards out as long as you can!"

"Roland!" Adora cried, ecstatic to see him alive.

The knight turned from the men and they ran off to comply with his orders. His brown eyes widened as he strode across the room to meet the two Cousland women.

"Your Ladyship! My Lady! You're both alive!" The relief in his voice was heavy with emotion as he looked the two of them over for injuries. "Thank the Maker. I was certain Howe's men had gotten through."

"They _did_ get through." Adora admitted, tears threatening to break forth. She was just so happy to see that someone else she cared for had survived.

Her mother continued for her, placing a hand on her shoulder for comfort. "They killed Oriana… and Oren. I can't believe…" Her eyes narrowed on a gash in Ser Gilmore's armor. "Are you injured?"

The red haired knight quickly covered the wound with a gauntleted hand. "Don't worry about me, your Ladyship. It's nothing. Thank the Maker you two are unharmed. I don't know what I…" He looked down. "When I realized what was happening, it was all I could do to shut the gates. But they won't keep Howe's men out for long."

They could see the men struggling to keep the main gate closed. The sounds of what was likely a battering ram were ringing throughout the room like thunder. Splinters were beginning to form in the massive oak doors.

Ser Gilmore looked back to the two women. "If you've another way out of the castle, use it quickly. You _must_ get to safety."

"Ser Gilmore, have you seen Bryce?" The teyrna asked quickly, eyeing the door on the far side of the room.

"When I last saw the teyrn, he was badly wounded. I urged him not to go, but he was determined to find you." He informed them, sighing softly as he spoke. "He went towards the kitchen. I believe he thought to find you at the servants' exit in the larder."

"Bless you Ser Gilmore. Maker watch over you. " Eleanor intoned, before turning and walking towards one of the doors that would eventually lead them to the kitchen. Adora watched her, biting her lip in indecision. She took a step closer to Ser Gilmore and could see that his wound was oozing blood.

"Maker watch over us _all._ " He turned to join the men at the gate, but Adora caught his arm.

"Come with us, Roland. Please, you're in no state to fight." _I need you to live_. She had already lost two people she cared about. She didn't want to lose another.

He looked down at her hand on his arm, his dark eyes unreadable. "My lady…" He sighed and shook his head. "If I do that, you won't make it out before the gates fall. I'm sorry."

"Roland, please-" She reached out to tug on his arm again and he shook his head firmly, taking a step back out of her reach.

"Please, Adora! _Go_. While you still have a chance." He walked away, going back to the gate to stand with the rest of the men.

_He's already gone, Adora Bell. Accept it. He was never yours._

Squeezing her eyes shut, she took a deep breath and willed the voice away. Her father was _hurt_. She needed to find him.

Lady bumped her hand, licking at her until she moved. She rubbed the mabari's head and went to follow her mother. Leif fell into step beside her, looking back over his shoulder to watch the knights fight back against the tide of death. She didn't see Nereus anymore and assumed he'd gone ahead of them after Duncan.

"Duncan's going to be with your father. I know he is," the dwarf mumbled quietly.

Adora heard him clear as day, regardless of the din throughout the castle halls. Her mother had already killed the few men that had been between them and the kitchen. Entering the kitchen, she saw Nan and the elven servants already dead. Lady ran to Nan's side, sniffing at her and whining sadly. She'd known her since she was a pup and although the old woman had complained she'd always given the war hound scraps when she was good.

"Poor Nan," she whispered, closing the kitchen door behind them. She spared her nanny another glance, swallowed her tears, and entered the adjoining room to the larder where just earlier she'd fought giant rats with her knight and dog by her side.

Now she entered and saw her mother on the floor by her father. She was holding him in her lap, cupping his face and speaking softly. He was still alive, but he was covered in blood. Adora couldn't even begin to count his injuries. He hadn't been wearing armor when he'd been attacked.

"Father!" She cried, rushing to her parents' sides and throwing herself on the ground beside them.

Bryce Cousland looked up at his youngest and smiled. "There… you are. Pup, your mother… she said you were right behind her."

"I was. I am." She was crying openly now, tears streaming down her face. She grasped her father's hand, holding it close. His hand was still so large and she felt so small and helpless. "Daddy, please don't go."

"Why would Rendon _do_ this to us?" Her mother wailed. "He was our _friend_. Oh, Bryce…"

The teyrn shivered, but his touch was feverish. "He can't… get away with this! The king will-" he broke off into a series of body wracking, wet coughs. Blood painted his lips red.

Eleanor shook her head. "Bryce, we must get you out of here. There must be a way to-"

Her husband put a finger to her lips, shaking his head. "I… I won't survive the standing, I think. Eleanor, love. Take Adora. Get out. Find… the king."

"No, Daddy," Adora shook her head, looking around the room with an insane wish that they'd find a stretcher or something to carry him with. "That's not true. You'll be fine. We just… we just need to sort this all out."

"Ah, my darling girl," her father choked out, emotion tinting his voice with all the love in the world. "If only will could make it so."

Eleanor sighed, the action shaking her whole body. "Once Howe's men break through the gate, they will find us. We must go!" Her eyes were begging her husband, willing him to take the risk and run.

"Someone… must reach Fergus…" his voice was getting weaker, the pause between words being filled with his rattling breath. "Tell him what has happened."

"I hate to break in," Leif said, coughing awkwardly as he did so. Adora had forgotten he was there. She whipped her head around to stare at him as he spoke. "But if Howe has gone outta his way to kill you all here, he's probly got something planned for your son, too."

 _He's right._ Adora realized, fright filling her like cold sea water.

Her father let out another rattling cough. Eleanor shook him slightly. "Bryce, no! The servants' passage is _right here_! We can flee together, find you healing magic!"

The teyrn shook his head, speaking in the most broken voice Adora had ever heard. "The castle is surrounded… I cannot make it."

The door burst open behind them.

Leif had already turned with his blades in hand and Adora had begun to rise before seeing it was Duncan. The Warden sheathed his sword when he saw the room was clear of enemies, and then entered the small room. Nereus was close behind him, his face grim. The mage closed the door behind them.

"I'm afraid the teyrn is correct." Evidently he'd heard their conversation. "Howe's men have not yet discovered this exit, but they have surrounded the castle. Getting past will be difficult enough."

"Duncan!" Leif exclaimed, sheathing his blades. "Where've you been? I thought you'd be with the teyrn when we found him."

"I was. Luckily I was near when the arl's men attacked. I am ashamed that I could not protect him. The least I could do was get him here safely. I was looking for her Ladyship and her daughter in his place."

Accepting this answer, Leif then turned his attention to Nereus. He was glaring suspiciously at the lanky mage. "And you. Where'd you run off to?"

Nereus shrugged. "Here and there. I thought I might stop that red knight from bleeding to death all over the gates, if that's fine with you."

Adora gasped. "Roland! You healed him?" She looked from her father to Nereus, her gray eyes pleading. "Could you…?"

The mage sighed and looked away. "I can't. I'm not… I'm not skilled enough. And I've drained the last of my mana. I'm sorry, my lady."

She didn't understand everything he'd said, but she knew enough to trust that what he said was true. Besides, he'd have no reason to hold back. If he could heal her father, he would.

"Do not be sorry, young man. My daughter and I would not have made it here without help from you and your colleague." Eleanor muttered softly. "You have done more than enough for us."

Duncan leveled his gaze on Adora and she looked away. "I am not surprised you made it here unharmed."

"Are you going to help us, Duncan?" She asked gently, afraid to look him in the eyes. Her father was dying… if he could help, maybe he might survive.

Lady was sitting by the door, her ears twitching in tune to the different sounds. Suddenly, she rose, turning the growl lowly at the door.

"Whatever is to be done now, it must be quick! They are coming!" The teyrna warned, her eyes jumping to the closed door.

Adora could hear it, too. Before, the fighting had been silenced by the pantry and kitchen doors. Now the sounds of battle were beginning to leak through the cracks. It was still muted by the barriers, but it would reach them soon enough. Seeing the dead kitchen staff might put them off their scent for a moment, but it would not last long.

"Duncan… I beg of you…" Bryce's voice was so quiet, the Warden had to lean in to hear. "Take my wife and daughter to safety!"

Duncan straightened. "I will, your Lordship. But… I fear I must ask for something in return."

"Are you insane?! What do you _think_ you're gonna get outta 'em?" Leif was outraged.

Nereus was watching the door, pointedly ignoring the conversation between the rest of the room's inhabitants.

The Commander of the Grey stared at his recruit with empathy. "What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil now loose in this world." His eyes locked onto the teyrn's. "I came to this castle seeking a recruit. The darkspawn threat demands that I leave with one."

"What?!" Adora hissed, stunned that he would make such a request even now.

Her father nodded weakly. "I… I understand."

"What? No!" She exclaimed again, looking between her father and Duncan. "What about Ser Gilmore? He's still alive! He's just outside. You could take him and we could-"

"Out of the question. We must leave now. I do not have time to search the castle for someone who _might_ still be alive." Duncan shut her down immediately. "Truthfully, you were always my first choice."

 _He is mad_. Adora shook her head, eyes wide in response to his concession. "No…"

The Warden ignored her disavowal. "I will take the teyrna and your daughter to Ostagar, to tell Fergus and the king what happened. Then, your daughter joins the Grey Wardens."

"Father, no! Please, don't agree to this!" She didn't want to be a Warden. She didn't want to leave her father behind. If he didn't agree, maybe they could force Duncan to help, somehow…

Her father looked into her eyes. "I'm sorry, pup." He nodded to Duncan. "So long as justice comes to Howe… I agree."

" _No!_ " She moaned, clinging to her father and mother.

Duncan spoke softly from behind her. "I am offering you a place in the Grey Wardens, Adora Cousland. Fight with us."

"No." She spat, glaring at the man who would sacrifice another for a chance at a recruit. "I _won't_ do it."

Sighing sadly, the Warden's voice held more power behind it compared to just a moment ago. "Then I have no choice. I hereby invoke the Right of Conscription and recruit you, Adoracia Belinda Cousland, into the Grey Wardens despite your objection."

His knowledge of her full name felt like a binding contract. She cried out, gripping at her parents feebly, even as Duncan was pulling her away.

"I'm sorry, pup, but… it's better this way." Her father murmured softly as she was pulled away from him. His hands were so cold. She needed to help him.

"No no no no…" she just repeated the word over and over again, unbelieving.

Her mother looked up at her, tears in her eyes as her daughter was pulled away. Looking down at her husband, she stroked his cheek with her hand. "Bryce… are you sure?"

"Our daughter will not die of Howe's treachery." His voice had some strength behind it at last. "She will live, and make her mark on the world."

Something was happening. Adora could see it, even through her struggles and her tears. She knew when her mother didn't get up.

"Darling, go with Duncan. You have a better chance to escape without me."

Her heart was breaking. It had been squeezed earlier at the discovery of her sister-in-law and nephew lying dead and violated. It had been hammered when she left Roland to die at the gates. Now it was shattering at the loss of her parents.

"Eleanor!" Her father gasped, dismay apparent in his voice.

"Hush, Bryce." She pressed a kiss to his bloody lips. "I'll kill every bastard that comes through that door to buy them more time. But I _won't_ abandon you."

"What about your daughter, huh?" Leif was involving himself again, his face flushed with anger. "You're _alive_. You're not even hurt! Are you gonna just throw your life away? Look at this girl! She _needs_ you!"

"Leif, this is not your place." Duncan warned him softly as he held Adora in his arms.  
She went limp, willing him to just drop her and leave her behind. She might as well die with her parents. Fergus was better off not knowing the truth. _Let Howe tell his lies. I will die here._

She could hear Leif arguing with her mother and Duncan. She couldn't hear their words any more. The sounds of fighting drew nearer. She could hear men shouting.

"I…" her father's voice broke through the haze that had settled over her mind. "I'm so sorry it's come to this, my love."

She shook her head and straightened up. Duncan loosened his hold on her now that she was standing.

"We had a good life," her mother said, carefully laying the teyrn up against some sacks of flour. She stood, drawing her bow and knocking an arrow. "We did all we could. It's up to our children now."

Nereus spoke up at last. "We need to leave. Now."

"Mom… Dad… _please_." Her tears would never stop, not after this.

Her mother looked away. Her father looked up at her, blood dribbling from his lips as he spoke. "Go now, pup. Go… warn your brother. And know… that we _love_ you both. You do us proud."

A thunderous crash shook the keep. Dust fell from the beams above them. More shouting followed.

"They've broken through the gates. We must go. Now!" Duncan grabbed Adora again, dragging her towards the secret passage.

"Goodbye, my darling girl," her mother whispered, never once looking back at her.

She twisted, growling and trying to break free from the Warden's grip. "No! Don't leave them! You can't leave them! _Those are my parents you're leaving to die!_ "

Her cheek stung. She stopped. He'd slapped her. Lady growled, and then stood down.

"They are my _friends_ ," he hissed, towering over her. "If I could save them, I would. Your father is beyond helping and your mother has made a brave sacrifice for _you_. Now be worthy of it!"

She let him pull her through the trap door and into the tunnel. Lady was walking ahead of her and Duncan; she could hear Nereus and Leif behind them. They closed the door behind her, covering them in darkness.

 _I am dead_ , she thought to herself, stumbling in the darkness like a drunk. Duncan had released his grip on her once they were in the tunnel. There was no going back and they both knew it.

She hadn't used the servant's passage since she was a child. Back when Roland had first come to the castle, in fact. As a child, she'd been so much kinder than as a teenager in later years. She'd found a friend in the young boy and wanted to show him all of her secrets. They'd sneak into the larder when Nan wasn't paying attention and then run through the tunnel, all the way out to the coast. They'd dance and play in the waves, collect seashells, and lie in the sun until their skin turned red and burned.

After a whole summer of search parties being sent out after the wayward children, Adora had been encouraged to stop being so reckless. Her father had found ways to keep the young squire busy and her mother had set Adora on play dates with Delilah Howe.

Blinking rapidly in the darkness, Adora was overwhelmed with her childhood memories. She knew the passage as well as she knew any part of the castle. She needed to be in the _sea_.

Stumbling lamely at first, she pushed past Duncan. Soon she was jogging, and then sprinting blindly through the tunnel, narrowly missing the beams that supported the ancient structure. She could hear Lady at her side, barking happily at the chance to run. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she ran and she started sobbing, hiccuping as she slowly came down from the run and burst out into the moonlit cove.

The waves were rushing up on the stretch of beach, welcoming her with frosted lines in the sand. The sound of the Waking Sea roared throughout her head and she collapsed into the sand, breathing the cleanest air she'd ever known. She could remember everything. She never wanted to let go.

_Howe will pay for this._

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being lazy about coloring. I wanted to get this chapter up.


	11. The Strength to Go On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of the attack on Highever castle, Duncan leads his recruits on their next destination. He attempts to break through to Adora Cousland as she laments the loss of her family and freedom.

\-----------------------

9:30 Dragon, Draconis 20th

\-----------------------

 

 

They were traveling southeast across the Bannorn. The North Road was too much of a risk, likely being patrolled by Amaranthine’s soldiers. As things stood, the arl couldn’t risk anyone escaping. Surely he’d have his men search the bodies for familiar faces. When Adora was discovered to be missing, he’d have his men scour all the roadways, especially any which ran past Denerim. If the sole survivor of his slaughter had anywhere to go, it would be Denerim or Ostagar. Denerim was closer, where the young Cousland could hide among noble allies; perhaps even take command of her family estate in the capital. Ostagar was less likely as a destination due to its distance.

 _Unless the arl suspects I have taken her as a recruit_. Duncan realized that was a very real possibility. He’d said as much in front of the man himself just days ago. Had there been some way to take back his words in front of the arl, he would have done so in hindsight. If he’d suspected the nobleman of such treachery upon meeting him, though, things would have turned out very differently.

He knew the best thing they could do was evade detection for as long as possible. If they headed straight towards Ostagar, they risked being spotted. If they took a detour, however - say through the edge of the Brecilian Forest - then they’d have a better chance at remaining unmolested.

They were halfway through the lowlands already. So far they’d been lucky. They’d passed other travelers, but no one who even vaguely resembled a threat. There’d been a few bandits lying in wait, but when they’d gotten a good look at Duncan and his recruits they’d left them alone. Normally he’d see about ending the various menaces, but he simply didn’t have the time. If they didn’t waste his time, he wouldn’t waste them. It was as simple as that.

They’d just passed another marker. Soon they’d be drawing close to the Hafter River. It would bring them a little closer to the Imperial Highway than he wanted them to be, but they’d need to cross the structure eventually. He was thinking about eventually taking his group near South Reach to gather information. It wouldn’t hurt to hear about any possible rumors from up north, but he was mostly hoping to hear about any Dalish clans passing through on their way into the forest.

He could certainly return to Ostagar with the three recruits he’d already chosen, but he was hoping for at least one more. Not to mention he _did_ want to stay out of the roads to Ostagar a little longer, just to be safe. They’d have to take the West Road into the old fortress. It was a better bet than trying to maneuver through the Southron Hills, even if they did risk an ambush by Howe’s men.

 _I keep coming back to that, don’t I?_ He knew that he was more than capable of handling any thugs the arl sent their way. Nereus and Leif were obviously just as adept. They’d handled themselves well during the siege of Highever. Adora, though… the girl was not doing well. 

* * *

 

After their escape, she’d had a complete breakdown. Any attempts to speak with her were met with only silence. She hadn’t acknowledged him at all. When he’d tried to drag her up from the beach, he’d been met with a knife at his throat. Her gray eyes had been empty, as if she weren’t even seeing him. He’d disarmed her, of course. That had led to a very brief fight from the anguished girl with him as the victor.

He needed to get through to her. They needed to escape before the exit was discovered and they were followed.

The mabari had nipped at his hand. He’d forgotten about the hound. Looking down at the dog, he’d suddenly thought of Hafter, one of his companions from long ago. The warhound had been one of the bravest creatures he’d ever known. Smart, too. He hoped that Adora’s hound was just as smart.

Desperate, he’d knelt before the dog and looked into her big brown eyes. “Your mistress is in terrible danger.”

“Is he… talking to the dog?” He’d heard Leif ask uncertainly.

Nereus had hushed him. Duncan continued, feeling more than a little foolish, yet equally hopeful when he got a response from the hound. She’d whined and looked at her companion. “We need to _leave_. I want to keep her safe.”

The dog had barked. He’d taken that as understanding when she padded over to the girl lying prone in the sand. Sniffing at her and pulling on her armor, the dog eventually managed to force Adora to sit up. She’d stared at the forceful beast for a moment, her eyes foggy. Then she’d collapsed against the hound, her arms encircling the thick neck as she sobbed into her fur.

“I can’t…” Leif was still stuck on him talking to the dog. The young dwarf looked completely beside himself. “The dog _listened_ to you.”

“Of course she did,” he’d said confidently, as if he’d never had a doubt. “She’s a purebred mabari. They’re the smartest hounds you’ll ever meet.”

After that, Adora had clambered up from the sand. Without saying a word, she’d started walking. Assuming she knew the best way out of the cove, they’d followed her under the light of the moons with the smoke from Highever beginning to obscure the starlight.

* * *

 

She’d led them to the North Road and from there, Duncan had taken them away from the Highway and into the lowlands of the Bannorn. Adora had followed silently, one hand down to touch the ears of her hound every step of the way.

He was still leading and she was still following. Nereus and Leif stayed behind a bit further, watching her just to be safe. Duncan wasn’t sure he was willing to trust her not to run away just yet. So far she’d shown no inclination. For the past three nights he and the other two men would keep watch, letting the young noblewoman get a full night of sleep. Not once had she tried to sneak away. She ate when food was brought to her, drank water when she was reminded to, but otherwise she was silent.

Duncan knew she would snap out of it, but at the moment he was feeling impatient. He _knew_ she had the potential to be a great warrior. He’d traced her path in Highever from her room, all the way to the kitchen. He’d spoken to the surviving men, fought beside them, and learned of how she’d fought with her mother by her side until meeting up with his recruits. How even after gaining the aid of two skilled fighters, she had continued to fight alongside them.

Perhaps, he also saw some of himself in the young girl. He had not wanted to become a Warden. He had chosen to _die_ rather than be recruited, yet even that choice had been taken from him. Just like he’d taken the choice from her.

Nereus and Leif were meant to be Wardens. He could feel it. They would survive the Joining and they would do great things in the future. Adora… he worried for her. Would she survive against all odds like he had? Or would her grief consume her? He didn’t know what it was that let people survive the ritual of the Joining, but he worried that the tragedy she’d so recently encountered would have some kind of part to play in her experience.

 _This is your time to be a mentor to your new recruits_. That’s what he’d been telling himself for days. Instead, he’d simply led them along on their long walk, occasionally giving them information when asked. He was distracted. That was to be expected. There was no way he could have fathomed the situations he’d recently found himself involved in back when he’d first left Ostagar.

Things always had to be more complicated than he’d set them out to be. That was just his luck.

He had to find a way to turn things around again.

The river was sparkling in the distance now. Not too far, then. It was drawing closer to sundown anyway. They’d made good time, all things considered.

* * *

 

Fording the river had been tiresome, but necessary. They were still trying to cover their tracks, after all. He’d settled on a nice sharp bend in the river for their campsite. Having mostly water to their backs wouldn’t be a bad thing. They’d hear anything approaching across the water easily enough and then they’d have a smaller perimeter to watch.

Leif had already set the tents and Nereus had gotten a nice, smokeless fire going. Adora was sitting listless on a fallen tree, her hound by her side. Since she still hadn’t spoken, he had yet to learn the dog’s name.

 _I suppose I should remedy that._ It would be a start.

He crossed the short distance to the young woman and knelt before the dog. The hound smiled the way all dogs do, with her tongue lolling out and her lips pulled back in a doggy grin. He returned the smile and scratched her neck and ears. He wasn’t looking, but he could feel Adora watching him as he praised her hound.

“She’s a remarkable beast,” he was saying to her now, his voice quiet and neutral. “I never did catch her name, I’m afraid. You can’t tell me, can you girl?”

The dog barked happily, then licked Adora’s leg. Duncan couldn’t help but smile at the gesture of affection from the dog. It was clear the two of them had a long history.

“Lady.”

Her voice had been so quiet, he’d almost missed it. It was like the echo of a whisper in a breeze. He looked from the girl to the dog, suddenly understanding. Lady was her name. When he’d asked, the dog had licked the nearest lady in response. Or was he giving her too much credit?

Lady looked at him expectantly and he obliged by scratching her ears again. “Lady. What a lovely name. And appropriate. She’s every bit a noble.”

Apparently Lady agreed, lunging forward to lick his face in appreciation. If she’d been trying to kill him, he would have let her. The hound was quicker than he’d expected. Instead, he received the wettest, slobberiest kiss he could recall in recent years. It was so unexpected, he found himself laughing openly in response.

“Oh! Well, perhaps I was a bit too forward!” He chuckled, patting the dog on the head when she settled back into place beside her mistress.

It didn’t seem that Adora was going to say anything more. Still, he’d at least started a dialogue. Of sorts.

“You know, when I was younger, one of the other Wardens had a warhound. Not a purebred, like you. No, Hafter was a special case. He was a bit of a mongrel, but he was as smart as any mabari.” He looked like he was talking to Lady. Mostly, he was. She looked very interested in his story. He thought Adora was listening, too. “Hafter wasn’t just smart. He was brave. In fact, he was a Grey Warden, just like me. I think he’d been a Warden longer than I had at the time I knew him.”

This seemed to make him worthy of a question. “How does a hound become a Warden?”

He looked up and found Adora looking at him. She already seemed more animated, somehow. Or maybe he was just imagining things.

Duncan smiled, patted Lady on the neck and stood. “That, I cannot tell you. Not yet.”

“Why not?” She sounded petulant now. A good reaction.

“Only those who are about to become Grey Wardens may be told.” He was aware that the other two were listening now. They were clearly curious about what made Wardens special.

The girl scowled and dropped her gaze. “You still expect to make a Warden out of me.”

“I do.” He sensed a fight brewing between the pauses in their conversation. That was fine. She needed to work things out.

Adora shook her head. Her hair was still pulled up into braids and twisted around a bun. Her previously bright red hair was dingy now and much of it had fallen loose from the braids. He wondered why she didn’t fix it. It looked uncomfortable after so many days.

“You made a mistake choosing me.” Her voice was pitched low, like she was having difficulty speaking.

The Warden watched her with patient brown eyes. “I disagree.”

He thought she was crying again, but when she looked up, her eyes were dry. Still, they were red with anger. “You won’t have a Warden. All you’ll have is a bitter, weak little girl.” She laughed quietly under her breath, her gray eyes trained on him. “You should have gone back for Roland. He would have fought your war. I’m not meant for this.” Her shoulders sagged and she hugged herself as she began to shake. “I should have died with them.”

“Your mother sacrificed herself so you could live.” He had given her time and space both. While he believed she deserved more, he did not have the luxury of giving her more. “You would dishonor her by wishing you had died as well?”

Her sharp intake of breath paused her trembling. She raised her head to look at him again and now he saw the tears he’d been expecting. “What is _honor_ to someone like me? I failed them already. What more could I do? I can’t…” She heaved, sobbing. Lady whined sympathetically and leaned against her as a support.

“You can’t… what?” He intoned softly, pushing her to continue speaking.

Adora shook her head, burying her face in her dog’s neck and holding onto her like she was the only thing tethering her to the earth. Lady huffed a sigh and nuzzled her head on top of hers.

The dog was clearly experienced at comforting the young woman. He admired her for that. Duncan wasn’t so great with the whole comfort thing. He’d been a Warden for too long now. The Commander of the Grey wasn’t exactly known for his soothing spirit.

“I can’t… I can’t tell Fergus…” she’d whispered it against Lady’s neck, the sound so muffled it had barely traveled enough for Duncan to hear. “Oh, my brother… I’m so sorry.”

She dissolved into tearful sobs again and Duncan was unable to get more words from her. He’d done enough for the night. She was speaking and reacting to her feelings now. Things would work themselves out in time. He hoped.

Leaving the girl to deal with her grief, he walked over to the fire and dropped down beside Nereus. The mage offered no comment, only pausing from watching the kettle of stew he was tending for a moment. Leif sat nearby, glaring at him from under his damp bangs. The dwarf had, naturally, had the worst time crossing the river.

“I see you’ve made the poor girl cry again. Good job, boss.” Leif had been cross with him ever since they’d left Highever behind. He’d disapproved of his handling of the situation the most and he’d remained vocal about it.

Duncan somehow managed not to flinch. Instead, he leaned forward with a sardonic smile. “That’s ‘Commander,’ Warden-Recruit Brosca.”

“Oh, excellent,” Nereus quipped without looking up as he stirred the watery stew. “At last, we’re on a disparaging last name basis. I’ve been waiting for this.

* * *

 

\-----------------------

9:30 Dragon, Draconis 21st

\-----------------------

 

 

Duncan had pulled the last watch of the night. It was just as well. He had plans for the early morning. He could feel dawn breaking before he could see it. There was a certain shift in the air and the sounds. Then there was that subtle burning on the horizon, the deep glow that edged the true light of day.

He rose from his seated position and stretched, listening to his bones creak and his joints pop as he moved his sore limbs. In later years, he’d certainly come to dislike sitting around for long periods of time. He was getting used to always being on the move and constantly training.

He chuckled to himself.  _When did I become this man_? He’d never been so serious before. Never would he have imagined he’d become such a stoic, vigilant man. The Wardens had truly changed his life in ways he couldn't have predicted. He’d been so young, so insolent; always on the lookout for trouble. He’d lost a certain spark when he’d decided to take being a Grey Warden seriously.

Sighing softly, he moved over to the tent that Adora shared with Lady. The hound heard him approach and looked up, all traces of sleep gone from her dark brown eyes. She huffed at him; her version of asking why he was disturbing her, he supposed. He smiled down at the dog and looked to her owner.

“I need to show her something,” he said softly, his deep voice rumbling in his chest. “She’s slept enough.”

Lady must have agreed, because she set about waking Adora. The girl whimpered softly in her sleep, rolling away from the dog that was actively licking her face. The dog whined and pawed at her. The massive mud covered paw must have done the trick, because Adora jerked awake, moving away from the offending paw immediately.

The mabari sat back on her haunches with a doggy grin and panted. Duncan imagined she felt very satisfied for completing her duty.

“Adora,” he said quietly, drawing the girl’s attention. She frowned at him, but crawled the rest of the way out of her tent. She said nothing as she looked at him, so he continued. “Indulge an old man. I’d like to show you something.”

The young woman said nothing in response. Instead of speaking, she began pulling her boots on and adjusting the straps. She’d gotten out of Highever with nothing but the clothes she’d been wearing beneath her armor that night. There had been no time for her to secure any of her other belongings, so she’d been sleeping in the same clothes for the past four nights.

When she was ready, he began walking and heard her follow. He motioned for Lady to stay at the camp. The hound whined, but obliged his silent order, curling up in the space vacated by her mistress.

They didn’t walk far from camp. He knew there were some hills nearby that offered a nice view of the rising sun. The further they moved from the river, the quieter the constant buzz from the insects became. Eventually, the predominant noise came from the sound of their boots crunching along the frozen morning dew.

At last, they’d crested the small hill he’d been seeking. There were boulders strewn about everywhere, as if from some ancient explosion of rocks. He chose a large one and climbed atop it, offering Adora his hand. She ignored the gesture and stared up at him with confusion clouding her stormy gray eyes.

“What are we doing here?” She asked exasperated.

“I asked you to indulge me, did I not?” He still held his hand offered out to her.

Disregarding it, she heaved a sigh and climbed up herself.

She stood there beside him, her arms crossed over the stained blue tunic she wore and a deep frown wrinkling her pale face. Duncan remained quiet and just stared out at the brightening horizon.

“This is stupid,” she muttered under her breath.

Without acknowledging her response, the Warden continued his silent vigil, his dark eyes trained on the rising sun as the bright orb breached the surface of the glowing sky. It was heralded by ribbons of colored light streaking across the atmosphere in every direction. For just a moment, there was so much color in the world he could hardly register all of it with his eyes. The moment passed and the sun was still shining up from the edge of the world.

He sensed Adora moving at his side. Finally, he pulled his gaze from the eastern skies and looked down at the girl he’d just dragged out from sleep. Her head was bowed and her shoulders were shaking, causing the red hairs that had fallen loose from her styling to tremble lightly in the breeze. He could hear the soft sniffles that warned him about the tears to come.

Carefully, not wanting to startle the poor girl, he laid a gloved hand on her shoulder. She didn’t resist and he pulled her closer into what started as a very awkward embrace. She broke against him, arms coming up to hold him as she burst into a new set of sobs. He imagined that her father or her brother would have held her the same way, petting her red hair and telling her everything would be okay. He wouldn’t lie to her, though. Her father was dead and her brother’s family was, too. She’d be lucky to see her brother again at the rate things were going.

So instead of talking, he just let her cry. He rubbed her back in soothing circles and he held her. It was the least he could do for her. After all, he’d forced her to leave her family to die and in doing so forced her into a life that she had never wanted. It was a life _he_ had never wanted, yet he found himself thinking that being a Grey Warden was exactly what he needed to be. 

* * *

 

He didn’t know how it had worked itself out, but it had. He’d held her until she’d stopped crying and they’d both watched the sunrise. When it was high enough in the sky and it no longer looked so close and full, she had climbed down from the boulder and he’d followed her.

When they walked back to camp, Adora was quiet again. It wasn’t like before, though. This time, she did not trail behind him like a shadow. The young woman was walking by his side with eyes red and puffy from crying. Her silence was no longer a thing born of anger, but instead security.

Upon their return, Lady had come up with a big grin on her broad mabari face. She’d barked cheerfully and headbutted Adora, who in turn set about petting the hound.

“Hey, girl,” she whispered softly, bending down to bump heads with the dog. “Yes. Thank you.”

Duncan smiled and left her with the hound. Nereus and Leif were already up and packing things up, he saw. The two men were perched on either side of the magical fire that Nereus had brought up again. He joined them, sitting an equal distance between the two of them.

“Gentlemen,” he inclined his head, and then reached for the cheese that Nereus had set out nearby.

Apparently the young mage had nicked a few things from the kitchen and larder during the castle siege. When Duncan had first asked him about it, he had simply shrugged. “Better us than the arl’s men, don’t you think? I was simply thinking ahead.”

That had the old Warden wondering about what else the mage could have stolen in the time he’d spent in the keep. Leif hadn’t produced any evidence that he’d stolen anything, but Duncan couldn’t discount the potential that the dwarf could have done the same. Then again, the gruff blonde seemed to have a completely different set of morals from the slender mage.

“Hm, moving away from calling us ‘recruits’ so soon?” Nereus’s smooth voice was the essence of playfulness. “That’s too bad. I rather liked hearing ‘Warden-Recruit Amell.’ What _do_ you call new Wardens? Are there any fancy titles?”

“There are plenty of titles,” Duncan admitted, savoring the bite of cheese he’d had before Nereus had started speaking. “However, if you are a new Warden, you are simply referred to by your last name preceded by the title of Warden. So when you are made a Warden, you will be called ‘Warden Amell.’”

The mage sulked. “Well, that’s boring. What’s your title? You said something about being a commander?”

Duncan nodded. “Indeed. Commander of the Grey. It means I lead the Grey Wardens in Ferelden.”

“ _All_ of them?”

He hesitated over the last bite of cheese and sighed. “Yes, all of them.”

“I’ll bet that gets you invited to all of the fancy parties.” Nereus joked, going back to his own serving of cheese.

Duncan finished his portion and chuckled. “Hm, maybe a few centuries ago. However, the Wardens are no longer held in such high regard.” He sighed. “We used to receive tithes and donations from all over the land. Recruits came to _us_ not the other way around.”

“Sounds like being a Warden now sucks.” Leif finally spoke up.

Looking over to the formerly silent young man, Duncan noticed Leif was watching Adora as she played with her dog. He let slip a small smile and took a long drink from his canteen. “Hmm, I suppose it does.” He rose from his seat between the two recruits and winced when something in his back pulled tight. “Ah. Well, no matter. The Wardens are necessary to defend the world against the Blight. It is a noble calling, regardless of how we are perceived.”

Adora was approaching now, with Lady at her side. The dog was panting and nipping at her hands affectionately. The redhead smiled down at the dog before resuming a neutral face. She took Duncan’s place at the fire, sitting a little closer to Leif than to Nereus. The mage leaned forward, handing her a slice of cheese and some toast.

“You are looking radiant today, Lady Adora,” he declared with a pleasant smile.

She accepted the food from him with no comment, making efforts to avoid his inquisitive blue eyes.

Duncan took the initiative to intercept the mage’s attention from the girl. “We should get going soon. South Reach is still some days away.”

It was clear he had all of their attention. Adora was the first to speak. “We’re going to South Reach?”

The Warden bobbed his head in response. “Yes. From there, we will enter the Brecilian Forest in search of the Dalish.”

This led to a shared gasp between Nereus and Adora. Leif looked puzzled.

“The what now?” the dwarf asked brusquely.

“The Dalish are various clans of elves that travel throughout Thedas in tribes,” Duncan explained patiently. “They do not settle in cities, rarely taking the time to pass through cities at all if they can avoid them. They travel in search of the history and artifacts of their people.”

“Huh.” He nodded his head slowly. “Okay, so we’re looking for elves.”

“ _Why?_  " Nereus asked, his tone aghast. “The Dalish hate humans. They’ll shoot us on sight!”

“That’s not necessarily true,” Adora interposed. “Dalish clans pass through Highever every few years. They’re always perfectly respectful.”

Duncan took a moment to appreciate the narrative that had been established between all of them. He’d gotten so used to the silence over the last few days that it was a very welcome change.

“While the Dalish may sometimes be aggressive to humans,” he admitted, bringing the attention back to him. “They have always been trusted allies of the Grey Wardens. They will recognize my armor before they shoot, I can promise you that.”

That seemed enough to assuage the mage of his hesitancy in approaching the Dalish. He snuffed the fire with a wave of his hand and picked up his staff and pack. He was already wearing the armor that he’d received back in Highever.

“Well, didn’t you say we had some ground to cover?” He seemed impatient, perhaps feeling as if he’d lost an argument.

Adora had finished eating, she wiped her hands on her pants and rose to collect her armor. “The sooner we leave, the better. I could use a walk.” 

* * *

 

By the time night fell, they’d crossed over the river again. They were drawing near to the part of the Imperial Highway known as the West Road. Duncan didn’t want to risk them drawing any closer to the well-traveled route, so he had them set up camp a few miles away; far enough that any firelight wouldn’t draw much attention from the raised roadway.

He’d decided it would be the first night he asked Adora to keep watch. She was still quiet, but she now occasionally piped up for small talk. It was a vast improvement already and Duncan was glad for it. He knew she would never be the same person she was before he’d come to Highever, but he was hopeful that she would grow into a stronger woman.

Losing one's family and home to traitors wasn’t something anyone could easily put behind them. He knew that partly from personal experience and partly from simply knowing the difference between right and wrong. He truly did want the arl to face justice. As soon as he returned to Ostagar, he would personally bring the matter to Cailan.

As they set up camp, he began to take note of who found certain tasks to be routine. Leif and Nereus were both quick to help set up the tents, but Adora was helping as well this time. Nereus could create a magical fire that needed no fuel and therefore gave off no smoke, but if they wanted the fire to last outside of his watch, they would need firewood. Leif volunteered to retrieve some and Adora offered to go with him.

That left Duncan alone with Nereus for at least a short time. He took the opportunity to join him and see what he was preparing for dinner. The mage was very resourceful when it came to food. On top of him having clearly stolen from the Cousland’s larder, he was quite adept at preparing quick meals out of next to nothing, including whatever game Duncan and Leif had been able to bring in from time to time.

“Did you do a lot of cooking at the Circle, Nereus?” He asked, watching the other brunette as he pulled a few vegetables from his bag.

“Hm? Oh, I suppose I did from time to time,” he commented absentmindedly, producing a knife from a belt on his waist. “We all did our fair share in the kitchens. It was a good way to ensure we ate a little better than everyone else. The templars watched you more when you were preparing food for them, so that meant we had to get _really_ sneaky about taking a little extra for ourselves.”

“From what I know of life in the Circle,” Duncan said thoughtfully, thinking back to his brief excursions in Kinloch Hold when he was younger. “Mages can be wilier than most city pickpockets.”

The mage laughed appreciatively. “Oh, _absolutely_! It’s the only way to get by, really.” He’d chopped some carrots and onions and thrown them into the modest pot Duncan had been lugging around to prepare stews. “You learn a few things to spice up food and to make things last. Especially when shipments to the Circle are late due to weather.”

They were quiet for a few minutes while Duncan watched Nereus perform his food miracles. _Maker’s breath, he even managed to pilfer spices_. He shook his head. The young man could have given him a run for his money when he’d been his age and stealing things. It was not a skill he would have imagined a mage to have.

“I feel like I should be checking my pockets around you.” He admitted with a small laugh.

Nereus’s eyes gleamed like a cat’s in the light of the magical fire. “That’s not a bad idea, old man.” He flicked his wrist and opened his hand. A master silverite rune sat in the palm of his hand. “I’ve never seen a rune like this before. What does it do?”

For a moment, Duncan simply gaped at him. When he regained his ability to speak, he calmly asked him, “When did you take that?”

Shrugging, the young mage passed the rune back to its original owner. “When we left the Circle.”

Duncan was impressed and distressed at the same time. On the one hand, the boy was certainly talented. On the other, he’d stolen from _him_ and had managed to avoid being caught. He suddenly had the thought that the mage was going to be more of a handful than he’d previously thought.

He made a point of returning the rune to an inner pocket only to discover that it, too, had been breached. He’d had a small coin purse with a white runestone he’d “found” in the Circle. He’d been planning to give it to Alistair, since he knew the lad enjoying collecting them.

Nereus was laughing at him. “Ah, I do so enjoy the look of utter shock etched upon your grave features.” He grinned, revealing even, white teeth. “Seriously, lighten up. You’ve been a sourpuss since Highever.”

He gave up and tossed the rune to the sneaky mage-thief. “Perhaps that is because of the heinous event we were witness to.”

The mage marked him with a sharp gaze. “Politics. Killer, aren’t they?”

He could hardly believe the callousness he was witnessing. “Nereus, what happened to the Cousland family was a tragedy in the truest sense.”

“I’m not discounting that,” he agreed with a serious look in his bright blue eyes. “However, as you said yourself, the Blight poses a greater danger. You’re a Grey Warden. If _you_ said the Blight is a bigger threat than a coup against one of the highest ranking noble families in Ferelden _and_ a bigger threat than a _blood mage_ , then I’m inclined to believe you.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “You recruited me to become a Grey Warden, like yourself. While you may feel the need to soothe broken hearts and sore egos, I do not. That tragedy didn’t happen to me. I did what I could, took what I could, and we left.”

In some dark part of his heart, he knew Nereus was right. Grey Wardens didn’t belong in political disputes. They owed no one their allegiance. They had the right to take any measures available to defeat the Blight and they could destroy as many lives as they needed to do so. They did not need to fix whatever else may be broken in the world.

“As a Grey Warden,” Nereus continued, filling the pot with water as he spoke. “I will do whatever it takes to end the Blight.”

Duncan was silent. He hadn’t expected the young mage to be so dedicated to a cause he had yet to fully join. It was a relief, truly, that he had accepted the plight of the Wardens so quickly.

“Would you risk everything?” He intoned quietly. “Even if it destroys the lives of others?”

Nereus didn’t even blink. “To save the world and secure my freedom? In a heartbeat.”

No hesitation. He would need that. Nereus Amell was clearly not looking to be a hero.

 _He_ will _be a leader._ Duncan knew without a doubt that it would be so. He vaguely wondered if he would be around to see it.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter where I get to show a little more about the current recruits and how they handle upsetting situations. More on that in the future.
> 
> The next chapter may be a little smutty, so don't mind me while I hide in embarrassment.


	12. Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dalish elves wander Thedas in search of their lost history. Wild places, like the Brecilian Forest, tend to host the elves as they pass through.  
> Maiara Mahariel, a member of the Sabrae clan, takes the time to do a little extra exploring while her clan camps in the forest.

\-----------------------

9:30 Dragon, Draconis 24th

\-----------------------

 

 

The air was filled with the sweet scent of tall grass, white moss, and wild berries. Pollen from the shivering trees danced in the air, catching the streams of golden light that fell, dancing in the shadows of the forest. Everything was alive and the woods echoed with the sounds of its inhabitants; wolves, deer, spiders, even the wild sylvans; their boughs and branches creaking with every move, deep within the heart of the forest.

Maiara loved the sounds of the forest. Whenever her clan passed through, she was excited to run through the emerald depths. The feel of the breeze combing through her long black hair when she let it loose was one of the things she lived for. Getting away from the harsh, dry roads outside of the forest was also a relief for her bare feet. Even wrapped as they were, she didn’t like the feel of dust between her toes. Grass and moss, though. That was a feeling she could enjoy.

For the moment, she was alone. She’d slipped away from camp less than an hour ago and was all too ready to go for a dip in the silver pool she’d found not so far away. It was in a secluded part of the winding river that twisted its way through the forest, surrounded by high granite on one side and sheltered by a small, grassy cliff on another side. It looked deep enough to dive in from the hill she stood on, but she really didn’t want to risk it. Instead, she planned on climbing down where she would be out of sight of anyone passing by.

Before she could move, she became aware of someone watching her. Her long ears twitched; trying to catch any sounds she may have missed being so near the river. She chewed her bottom lip anxiously, looking over her shoulder to see if she could spot anyone. No one, of course. That meant it was an animal, a crafty stranger, or one of her clan mates.

Not wanting to risk anything but the last, she reached for the large sword strapped to her back, pulling it over her shoulder with one hand in an exaggerated movement. Gripping it with both hands now, she turned in the direction she felt the watcher was in.

The feeling of being watched vanished. Moments later, she heard something splash in the pool below. Rushing to the side of the hill, she looked over the edge to try to catch a glimpse of whatever had caused the noise.

Not so far below, in the very pool she’d been looking to plunge into, was a tanned blonde elf she knew all too well. He was looking up at her, laughing, and completely nude. He must have been watching her from the other side of the river and undressed while she’d looked around in confusion.

Sighing softly, she strapped the sword back into place, rebalancing it among the straps. There was no way she’d be leaving her stuff out in the open for someone to wander across. Ignoring Tamlen’s calls from below, she carefully climbed down the side of the cliff and was pleased to find a small cavern beneath the hill she’d been standing on.

Apparently Tamlen had found it before he’d started spying on her, because his clothes and weapons were lying in a pile nearby.

Rolling her brown eyes and shaking her head, she began shucking her own equipment into a neat pile beside his. The very instant she’d stepped back from her armor, she felt the jolt of cold water being splashed on her bare ass as she’d bent over to tidily arrange her equipment.

A shrill scream stole past her lips and she whirled around to face the source of her distress. Tamlen had swum up to the edge of the cave and was grinning wolfishly, distorting the vallaslin that was just a few shades darker than his sun kissed skin. Growling in the back of her throat, Maiara took a few steps back before bolting forward, taking a running leap over the head of her vhenan and crashing into the water behind him.

The water was colder than she’d predicted, but to have it encompassing her whole body was the relief she’d been seeking. It flowed over her dark skin, causing goosebumps to rise up all over her body and her nipples to tighten against the chill. Her eyes were open and the water was so clear, like it always was in the forest. She could see minnows darting by in a panic as Tamlen dove below the surface to join her in the deep water.

He smiled at her, laughter still clear in his blue eyes; they looked even bluer under the water. She made a rude gesture with her hand, and then kicked her legs, propelling herself to the surface so she could breathe. Her gasp for air was short lived, as Tamlen was right on her trail, grabbing the back of her head and pulling her in close for a kiss.

Panting against his lips, she found herself breathing through him and quickly ceased her struggle to take in air. Her lips moved against his in a familiar rhythm, tongues twining against each other, lips sucking, with the occasional nip of teeth. When he pulled away – he _always_ pulled away first – he was right back to laughing at her.

Maiara splashed water up into his face and he yelped. She smiled, unrepentant and floated away from him, her long hair trailing beneath her in the cool water.

The blonde grinned and chased after her, rising over her in the water and pinning her against the granite on the opposite end of the pool.

“Hey, at least I waited until you’d undressed.” His tone was completely unapologetic as he pressed his body against hers.

She rolled her eyes in response, but still took the time to run her hand along the dark lines of his vallaslin as it curved around the angles of his body. “Barely, you ass.”

Tamlen shrugged and her eyes followed the water that flowed over his shoulders at the motion. “A trifle that I’m sure you’ll forgive. After all, your armor remains free of water.”

He’d learned not to mess with her equipment years ago. She may have flown off the handle and chased him around with a large ironbark branch while threatening to break every bone in his body. She hadn’t, of course. She’d sorely wanted to after he’d dropped a handful of snow down the back of her chainmail shirt, but he’d skillfully convinced her to do no such thing.

He was still smiling at her, completely incorrigible in his ways. She still loved him for it, despite everything.

“I suppose I can forgive you this time,” she admitted, pouting slightly.

“Ma serannas, ma’blarteralas,” he whispered against her mouth, kissing her again.

It was never in her to resist him, despite his pranks and playful nature. He was her vhenan. She couldn’t help but melt against him, despite the chill in the water. His body held her anchored against the granite cliff and she took advantage of his distraction, moving her hand lower to lightly run her fingers over more sensitive flesh.

Tamlen moaned roughly into her mouth and thrust against her hand before pulling away to nip at her bare throat. She gasped, turning her head slightly to give him more access to her neckline. He chuckled lightly against her flushed skin, pressing kisses to soothe the skin where he’d bitten as he rolled his hips, pressing hard, smooth flesh against her hand.

“Mmm, you couldn’t get away from Master Ilen fast enough, could you?” He breathed softly against her throat, licking at it sensually.

Maiara did her best not to jerk too suddenly. He was _really_ in the mood. He wasn’t always so busy with his mouth that he hardly spoke. He was always ready to talk and wisecrack, no matter the situation.

“I wanted to be with you,” she managed to say at last, shifting to bring his mouth back to hers. She kissed him, lingering on the taste of him before drawing back with a small smile. “I knew you’d follow me eventually.”

He laughed, his blue eyes sparkling brightly in his tanned face. “Of course. I’m glad. We’ve needed this.”

That they did. They’d been cooped up in the aravels with the rest of the clan for too long. While it was nice and comforting during the winter, it wasn’t exactly great for privacy. The clan was heading north, though, away from the Blight that had started in the south. They were hoping the Blight wouldn’t spread; otherwise they’d have to find a way to leave Ferelden. Finding a ship willing to take a Dalish clan, aravels, halla, and all wouldn’t be easy.

She didn’t want to think about that, though. Right now, she just wanted to focus on her vhenan. He’d moved a hand lower as well; he brushed the tips of his fingers against her and she bit down on her lip to keep from crying out. She’d missed this. His touch, their skin pressed together, light against dark. Her head was swimming, overwhelmed with emotions and sensations as she tilted her head back against the granite.

She’d missed the freedom and the solitude, away from the rest of the clan. Out in the forest, with Tamlen, she felt alive and unbound. It was the way things should be. She didn’t want it to end.

* * *

 

An hour later, they were satisfied, dressed, and roaming the forest, tracking a deer. The clan had arrived in the forest a few days ago, so it was still important for them to stock up on game. They’d barely penetrated the edge of the forest, preferring to travel through the less treacherous terrain of the Brecilian Passage. So close to human lands, prey could sometimes be a bit scarce. They would need to take what they could before leaving the vast hunting grounds of the forest. Food would be more difficult to come by elsewhere.

Tamlen was a hunter, so he was expected to be out of camp for long periods of time. Maiara accompanied him from time to time, but that was usually when they were too close to humans. The clan didn’t let the hunters go out alone if there was a risk of running into humans, so they either paired up with more hunters or they were accompanied by a warrior for protection.

Maiara was just next to useless when it came to hunting. She could be swift and quiet, yes, but she couldn’t wield a bow to save her life. If she was facing a bear, she’d be fine with her massive great sword. Generally they didn’t come across too many bears outside of the Hinterlands. They mostly hunted rams, deer, rabbits, and the occasional turkey. None of which could typically be hunted while swinging a big sword around.

Luckily there were plenty of deer flitting about the Brecilian Forest. They’d started tracking one after leaving the river behind. It was leading them a little deeper into the forest than they’d been looking to go, but they had time to kill. There were still many hours to go before Tamlen would be expected back.

Plus, Maiara was avoiding chores around camp. So she was content to stay out for as long as possible.

The part of the forest they were in was completely unfamiliar to her, though. Tamlen claimed he knew exactly where they were, so she trusted him and didn't worry about memorizing every detail. The scent of blackberry and sagebrush was strong and she found herself relaxing even as they cautiously crept through the trees, always on the deer’s trail.

Eventually, Tamlen motioned for her to halt. Ever so carefully, they inched forward until they were looking through the brush. They had a clear view of a natural path that curved out of the rolling hills of the forest and ran into a ledge. There were blackberry bushes creeping up from the edge of the cliff; straight ahead, nipping at the berries, was the deer.

Distracted as it was by the source of food, it didn’t notice their approach. One moment, Maiara was watching the deer eat, its tail twitching slightly as it extended its neck for better reach. The next, she was watching as it fell to the ground with an arrow sticking out of its head. She hadn’t even blinked; it had happened so fast. The sound of the arrow being released had blended perfectly with the wind and the creaking of the trees.

Tamlen was already moving past her, approaching the fallen creature with a knife in hand as he ended its suffering. He said a few quiet words as he knelt over the deer, but Maiara couldn’t hear him over the sounds of the forest. It was too _loud_ all of a sudden. She closed her eyes, trying to focus on why it seemed that way.

Her long ears twitched and she turned to hear the sound of footsteps. Three people were running nearby and they definitely weren’t Dalish. If she had to guess on the spot, she’d say she heard humans. No elf would run so noisily through the forest.

As silent as ever, she stepped out of the brush and approached Tamlen. He was already rising from the forest floor, his blue eyes narrowed as he, too, noticed the noise. He drew another arrow and swiveled in place, directing the point of his weapon at three humans as they came crashing out from the trees.

The three men obviously hadn’t expected to run into a pair of Dalish elves. They skidded in their tracks, backing up as if to run back the way they’d come. Unfortunately for them, Maiara had already flanked them, soundlessly drawing her blade and barring the way. She smiled wickedly and they cowered, backing up to the ledge.

“Dalish elves!” One of them exclaimed, his voice tinted with a mix of wonder and fear.

“Shemlen,” Tamlen sneered, looking down his nose at the cowering humans. “You are somewhere you shouldn’t be.”

 _What are they doing so deep in the forest?_ Maiara wondered, watching the humans warily. They appeared unarmed, so that was a good place to start. They clearly weren’t hunters. It looked like they were lost.

One of them was feeling bold. Or he thought they outnumbered Maiara and Tamlen. “Let us pass, elf! You have no right to stop us!”

This gave Tamlen cause to laugh. His arms never wavered and his bow remained fixed on the men. “No? We will see about that, won’t we?”

He was clearly toying with them. Maiara knew he hated humans, but he wouldn’t kill them in cold blood. Especially not for them being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“Lethallin,” Maiara spoke softly, noting the wild fear in one of the men’s eyes. “Let them pass. They made a mistake.”

“I think not,” he said carefully, glaring at the three men. “What if they’re bandits? We wouldn’t want them finding our camp.”

“We-we’re not bandits! I swear!” One of the men was kneeling on the ground before them, holding his hands out to show he was unarmed. “Please, don’t hurt us.”

Her vhenan was not content to simply let them go. It was rare that they came across humans, but most of the ones they dealt with were unkind, at the least. It was more rare for members of the clan to find themselves in a position where the humans were at their mercy.

Lowering her blade to a less intimidating pose, she realized Tamlen was enjoying the torment he was laying out.

“You shemlen are pathetic,” his normally playful voice now dripped with acid. “It’s hard to believe you ever drove us from our homeland.”

The third man spoke, moving to stand beside the man who had demanded they let them pass. “We never did nothing to you Dalish.” He explained, his voice shaking a little. “We didn’t even know this forest was yours!”

“This forest isn’t ours, fool!” The blonde elf was certainly feeling merciless in his derision. “You’ve stumbled too close to our camp. You shems are like vermin – we can’t trust you not to make mischief.”

“Tamlen,” Maiara snapped. “That’s enough.”

She could see his ears had turned pink at the edges, either from anger or embarrassment over her command. He didn’t turn to look at her when he said, “Is it? After everything we’ve suffered due to their-“

“ _Not_ their mistakes.” She growled the words out, showing that she would not tolerate his blind hate. “These men did nothing to us, as they said. They are unarmed and frightened. Would you harm someone who cannot fight back?”

He was silent for a moment and the humans were looking between them, probably hoping for a chance to make a run for it.

Maiara sighed and replaced her sword on her back. “What were you doing in the forest? This is far from any human settlements I know of.”

The bravest of the three was the one who answered her. “We didn’t come here to make trouble. We just… we found a cave.”

“Yes! A cave!” The man on the ground chimed in, clambering to his feet. “With ruins like I’ve never seen! We thought there might be… uh…”

“Treasure.” Tamlen finished scornfully. “So you’re more akin to thieves than bandits. What an improvement this is.”

She shot a glare his way before looking back to the humans. “Ruins, you say? In this forest… they’d _have_ to be elven. I’d like to see them.”

“So would I.” Tamlen agreed pointedly, as if he still didn’t believe them. “I’ve never heard of ruins in these parts.”

One of the men started rifling through his pockets. “I-I have proof! Here… we found this at the entrance.”

He tentatively held his hand out. Maiara stepped past Tamlen to take the artifact from his hand. It was a fragment of a runestone with unusual writing carved into it. It looked familiar, but she couldn’t place where she’d seen anything like it before. She held it out to Tamlen in an attempt to make him lower his bow.

With great reluctance, he did so in order to take a better look at the stone. His eyes narrowed. “Is this elvish? _Written_ elvish?”

 _That_ was why it looked familiar. The Keeper and her First were the only ones who practiced writing the ancient language. Maiara, while interested in the history, did not see herself as a scholar. The writing had no importance to her. Tamlen, though, had always been interested in such things. She’d always been surprised when he’d taken up an apprenticeship to become a hunter when he was really quite studious.

“Do you have any idea what it says?” She asked, feeling much better now that his emotions weren’t so hot. The humans looked relieved, too.

He shook his head, but his blue eyes were sparkling with curiosity. “No, not a clue.” He looked back up at the humans. “Where did you find this?”

“There’s more in the ruins!” They were getting very excited now. It reminded Maiara of how dogs were so enthusiastic after you complimented them on a well performed trick. “We didn’t get very far in, though…”

Maiara detected a note of fear in the man’s voice. “Why not?”

The men looked uneasy, but the one she was beginning to view as their leader spoke up again. “There was a demon. It was huge with black eyes and spines all over.” He shuddered. “Thank the Maker we were able to escape.”

Tamlen rolled his eyes and pocketed the runestone. “A demon. Right. So, where is this cave?”

“Just off to the west, I think. There’s a cave in the rock face and a huge hole inside.” He looked to his companions for affirmation and they both nodded.

Turning away from the humans, Tamlen locked eyes with Maiara. “You want to let them go, don’t you?”

“Of course. They did nothing wrong.” She knew he didn’t trust them and didn’t want to risk letting them go. “Please.”

He looked at her a moment longer before sighing and turning back to address the humans. “Today’s your lucky day, shems. Go. Don’t even think of coming back.”

As cautious as rabbits facing down wolves, the humans slinked past them, their eyes never moving from the two elves. One of them bowed his head to Maiara on his way by. When they were a decent distance away, they turned and broke into a run. The forest swallowed them and their panicked footsteps faded away.

Replacing the arrow in his quiver, Tamlen turned a look of pity on Maiara. “You are too soft, ma’vhenan.”

“Better to be soft than without mercy,” she retorted, stomping over to the deer. They would need to take it back to the camp. The encounter had left her tired for some reason.

He sighed behind her before kneeling on the ground beside her. “They could bring more. Say that we threatened them and stole from them. They could hurt us.”

“So we should kill them because they _might_ try to kill us?” She shook her head. “No. If we show them mercy, they’ll do the same.”

“The world is not often so kind as you would like.” To his credit, he did sound remorseful about it. He reached a hand out to touch her arm. “If anything were to happen to you…”

Maiara scowled. “Nothing is going to happen to me. _I’m_ not the one who picks fight with strangers.”

“No, but you certainly start enough with our clan mates,” he muttered under his breath, pulling the strange runestone out of his pocket. “Besides, if I wouldn’t have stopped those shems we wouldn’t have learned about that cave.”

“We should go back to camp,” she suggested, motioning to the kill. “Besides, now we have two things to bring back.”

Tamlen looked thoughtful as he rubbed his fingers over the carved markings in the stone. “Don’t you want to see if they’re telling the truth? We should see if this cave even exists before bringing it to Marethari.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think we have time. Who knows how far into the forest this cave is? Besides, the kill…”

“Don’t you think this is more important?” He was relentless. “These markings have me curious. Besides, we’re already out here. It can’t be that far.”

Maiara sighed, giving up. When he was determined to carry out an action, there was simply no stopping him. It didn’t matter if she brought in logic or rules. Tamlen always had to find his own way about things. His voracious curiosity was always getting the two of them into sticky situations. It seemed like it would be another day like that.

“I suppose it’s been a while since the last time the Keeper yelled at me about being irresponsible.”

He grinned at her and rose up from the ground. “That’s the spirit, lethallan.” He held a hand out for her and she took it, accepting his help up. “You won’t regret it. Just think about how grateful Marethari will be when we bring back some _real_ artifacts!”

“You always say I won’t regret it.” She rolled her eyes and started retracing the trail the humans had left in their wild run through the forest.

Tamlen looped an arm around her waist as they walked. “Do you?”

She smiled. “Not yet.”

Taking his arm from her waist, she linked their fingers together instead so they could walk hand-in-hand. If she was going to explore a new part of the forest, far from the aid of their clan, she’d at least take solace in doing so with her vhenan. No matter what they came up against, she knew they would handle it together.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm an adult and I'm still embarrassed over writing sexual situations.  
> Hopefully that wasn't too awkward.
> 
> Translation Notes:  
> Vallaslin - Blood writing  
> Ma vhenan/vhenan - "My heart"/"heart"  
> Ma serannas - "My thanks."  
> Ma'blarteralas - "My mountain flower"  
> Shem/Shemlen - "Quick"/"Quick children"  
> Lethallin/Lethallan - Casual reference used for someone with whom one is familiar.


	13. What Lies Beneath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maiara and Tamlen stumble upon something that was better left alone.

\-----------------------

9:30 Dragon, Draconis 24th

\-----------------------

 

 

After an hour or so of winding deeper into the heart of the forest, they find the cave mentioned by the terrified humans. It looked like a quake must have unearthed it, because the land surrounding it was torn asunder. Trees and plants were thrown about, their roots pulled free from the ground and tangling up into the sky. Parts of the ruin built into the cliff face were jutting up from the disturbed earth, creating new obelisks for the crawling vines and moss to creep upon. The tremor must have happened some time ago, because the forest was already beginning to claim the ruins. The entrance was a large crack in the cliff, but it looked stable, held together by thick, roping vines and roots.

A thick smell wafted out of the foreboding corridor, Maiara noted, wrinkling her nose slightly. It was something old, possibly corrupted. She didn’t like it. It smelled like decay and dust mixing with the natural scents of the forest.

Tamlen was looking down into the hole, an inquisitive look glazing over his blue eyes. “This must be the cave. I don’t recall seeing this before, do you?”

Maiara shook her head. Her hair had dried from her swim in the time it had taken them to track the deer, deal with the humans, and find the cave. It felt thick with tangles already and she desperately wanted to brush it out.

“No, I don’t.” She frowned when she heard the unmistakable skittering sound of giant spiders echoing out of the cave. “I don’t like this, lethallin.”

He rolled his eyes, already moving through the upturned earth on his way to the entrance. “Come on, let’s at least see what’s there. How dangerous could it be?”

“In every story I’ve ever heard, the one who says that is the first to die.” She wanted it to come out teasing, but a cramp was already forming in her stomach. The smell was making her sick.

He laughed and turned a playful smile on her. “Those are just stories! You’re not scared, are you?”

Balling her fists at her sides, she started the careful descent after him. No matter what, she would not let him go alone. “Of _course_ I am! I’ve never seen these ruins before and neither have you. We pass through this forest once a _year_! That worries me, Tamlen.”

He shrugged, and then slung his bow off his shoulder. He must have heard the spiders. “It was probably disturbed by an earthquake after the last time we passed through. Come on, Mai. There can’t be anything _that_ bad in there. Even if there is, I’ll protect you. So don’t worry.”

They were standing right in the entrance now. The webs from the spiders were clear as day, intermingling with creeping vines and black moss. They hadn’t shown themselves yet, but giant spiders were notorious for ambushing. The two elves looked about warily, each with their weapons held at the ready.

Now there were more ruins for them to look at. The stone was expertly carved and it looked like magic had been used in the construction. There were some alcoves with broken statuary embellishing the indentations and some busted sconces for torches built into the worn walls.

Tamlen took a shuddery breath, his eyes wide as they took in the surroundings. “It… looks like the shem was telling the truth. These ruins look more human than elven, though.”

“I didn’t know that humans built underground. I thought that was a dwarven thing.” Maiara spoke quietly as she looked around, waiting for the arachnids to show themselves.

He looked back at her, his eyes reflecting the dim light from outside. “As did I. Let’s check it out further.”

Biting her lip in a nervous gesture, Maiara followed after her vhenan.

Vigilantly moving further into the cave, they took great care to avoid touching the overly large spider webs. Many of the halls had collapsed, blocking many parts of the ruin from further exploration. As they turned down another hall, the sound of aggressive hissing and too many legs moving signaled the attack of two giant spiders.

Anticipating the ambush, Maiara swung her sword in a wide arc to send one of the spiders sliding backwards from the attack. Arrows flew from behind her, sticking in the joints of the spiders’ legs and hindering them further. With a few more precise hits from her sword, the spiders were dispatched, their bloated bodies spattering fluids and deflating.

“Disgusting,” Maiara spat, shaking some of the guts from her blade. She’d need to clean it properly when she returned to camp later.

Tamlen was more talkative. “Creators! I didn’t expect them to be so aggressive.”

“We should go back to the clan.” She wasn’t going to give up on them leaving just yet. “You’ve seen the webs. There are bound to be more. We can’t clear a nest like this on our own.”

He frowned, shaking his head. “No. I’m not running back until I know there’s something worth making a fuss over.”

Groaning in frustration, Maiara shoved passed him, kicking the corpse of one of the spiders on her way by. The close corridors were making her anxious. She didn’t like feeling trapped. The smell was _awful_. There were shelves lined with decaying papers that weren’t even worth rifling through. Every once in a while, she could make out a grinning yellow skull from within some of the collapsed walls. The webs from the spiders held more than a few bundled corpses, their desiccated bodies sucked dry of fluids.

At last they came to a door. She thought it strange that it was closed, but it was unlocked. They passed through, entering a hallway that split into two. Tamlen stepped up beside her, looking between the two directions.

Before he could speak, she held a hand up. “We are _not_ splitting up.”

Closing his mouth, he huffed a sigh. “Fine. We go right.”

The chosen passage lead to a large, open hall covered in the silk webbing. Gnarled tree roots had twisted their way in from outside, delving deep into the floor. Light filtered through some cracks in the ceiling, highlighting the dust that was swirling throughout the air. Before they could cross the room, they were waylaid by a full nest of spiders.

“ _Fenedhis_!” Maiara cried in alarm, striking the first few spiders down with one hit. Sometimes having a big sword was a real lifesaver.

The spiders had come from a hole on one side of the room. The arachnids had them backing into a corner in seconds. She had to keep them away from Tamlen. He was better with his bow than up close. Besides, he only had a knife, not a sword. He could do some damage to the spiders’ movement, but it was up to her to do the killing.

He was taking out their eyes and legs with his arrows while she severed limbs and punctured hairy, tumid abdomens. The spiders hissed, clacked their mandibles oozing with venom, and let out the shrillest shrieking noises she’d ever heard. It was awful and she very much did _not_ want to be in that situation.

When the last spider had fallen, letting out a discordant death hiss as it went down, Maiara turned to glare at Tamlen. The other elf was pale and panting, looking at the small mountain of spider corpses with a revolted gaze. Swallowing thickly, he began the process of removing arrows from the bodies, tossing any beyond use to the floor. He looked as miserable as she felt.

“This is your fault,” she reminded him, shoving through the bodies and gagging when the sound of liquid guts spilling reached her ears.

The smell was beyond awful now. The pungent odor of venom and intestines was mixed with the heady musk of the spiders. She couldn’t handle it.

Running to a part of the room free of spiders, she leaned against one of the walls and vomited. After a few more heaves, she’d emptied her stomach and was left gagging. Wiping her mouth on her scarf, she moved trembling fingers to her canteen so she could wash the taste of bile away.

Her ears picked out the sound of Tamlen approaching and she replaced the cap on her canteen, settling it on her hip again. She didn’t want to see the look of sympathy she knew she’d see in his eyes. She was too mad at him for putting the both of them in their current situation. Not to mention she was mad at herself for not convincing him to go back before it was too late.

“Let’s get this over with,” she rasped, moving to the nearest door.

He didn’t’ say anything, following behind her silently. He must have known it was best not to poke the bear and she was grateful. Just about anything would set her off right now.

They cleared more passageways and rooms, finding many mummified bodies and cocooned husks; victims of the nest they’d taken out. Along with the bodies, they’d found many ancient artifacts, both human and elven in appearance. She’d taken a few trinkets that might be good for trade and she saw Tamlen pack away a few things with a look of wonder in his gleaming eyes. She noticed that while the ruins were old and had obviously been host to the spiders, they still looked like they’d been disturbed recently.

After an hour of silence, Tamlen spoke. “This place makes me nervous.”

Maiara snorted derisively. “What a surprise.”

She’d turned to glare again and saw a look of hurt pass quickly through his eyes. Her glare wilted and she looked away. “What do you think all of this is?”

He sighed before answering. “I’m not sure. This looks like a very old _human_ place. Why would they build this? And why would elven artifacts be here?”

His questions were rhetorical, she knew, but she felt bad for taking her anger out on him and decided to supply a few guesses. “Maybe some of our ancestors lived here for a time. To escape humans or something, I don’t know.” She wasn’t good at thinking about such things. Her whole life had been spent roaming the wild places in the world. While she knew their ancestors had once lived in permanent establishments, she couldn’t understand the desire to stay in one place.

“Maybe,” he allowed, speaking softly. “I can’t imagine living down here.”

“Neither can I.” She shivered, looking over another corpse. “This doesn’t feel like it was ever anyone’s home.”

They hadn’t seen any rooms with signs of previous habitation. No beds, wardrobes, or even anything like a pantry. Some of the rooms looked like libraries, but others made her think of tombs.

“I don’t know.” He really did sound worried now. “I have this odd sensation that we’ve… _disturbed_ something. Like we’ve just walked into a dragon’s lair.”

“I would like to take this moment to point out I tried to stopped you.” Her voice was still a little tight sounding, but she thought she managed to sound kind of carefree.

He laughed and she relaxed. “True. And I do get it, by the way. I put us here and you’ve kept us alive. I guess I’ll have to find a way to make it up to you.”

She threw a smile over her shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll think of _something_ , lethallin. You’re creative, aren’t you?”

“I might be,” he admitted, his proud grin looking bright and out of place in the darkness of the hall.

They were walking abreast of each other in the narrow corridor, the unpleasantness from before dissolved between them. He reached out, taking her hand in his and pulling her tight against him, bringing them both to a halt.

Shocked, she’d fallen against him, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady herself. He took advantage of her surprise and trapped her with a kiss. Her ire from earlier was forgotten and she softened, moving her hand up to grasp at his hair and pull herself up into the kiss. Her head was buzzing with emotions as he embraced her and she relaxed, letting go of her fear and anxiety as he expressed how _very_ sorry he was for putting her in a bad situation.

He shifted, pulling away to look down at her with passionate eyes. “Will you let me make it up to you, ma sa’lath?”

Maiara could feel the blush working its way up to her ears. He’d always stuck with affectionate nicknames and sweet endearments, calling her his mountain flower or precious. Never something so… _intimate_.

Was he just trying to get out of trouble, though? She looked away, biting her lip; embarrassed to be thinking such a thing while a certain kind of heat pooled between her thighs. How could he play with her while they were in such an awful place?

He was nuzzling against her ear now, nipping lightly at the pointed ends. She shivered in his arms, wanting very badly to just give in to him, but also wanting to change the subject and _leave_. If he could be sweet to her here, he could wait until they were safe.

“Why did you want to come down here so badly?” She tried to sound nonchalant, turning her head away from his ministrations.

Sighing dejectedly, he leaned back against one of dusty walls, pulling her along with him. “Aren’t you even a little bit curious? We could be discovering our history! Minstrels will write songs about us!”

She rolled her eyes. “You aren’t fooling me with _that_ line.”

He laughed lightly, running one of his hands up her back to play with her hair. “I guess I’m not.” Smiling ruefully, he admitted, “If I were to bring some valuable ancestral artifact back to the Keeper, she might forgive me for… well, _you_ know.”

She winced slightly when he found one of the tangles in her hair. “Ah… Well…” She blushed, this time for a different reason. “We were both brawling. I don’t see why you were the only one who was punished.”

He gave her an unreadable look, still smiling. “Because _I_ was caught and wouldn’t give up any names. Of course she was angry with me.

“Thank you for covering for me, by the way.” She mumbled guiltily, pressing her head against his armored chest.

“Of course.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

“Anything but leave a creepy cave alone when ma’lan asks you to?” She teased him, pulling away to aim a blithe smile up at him.

He laughed, giving her a light shove and moving away from the wall. “ _Anything_ but that.”

She rolled her eyes at him again, pushing him back and starting down the hall again. “Of course.”

They were already deep into the ruins. Leaving now would be a waste of time and she knew it. Besides, he had a point in wanting to make things up to Marethari. She could certainly hold a grudge.

* * *

 

Twisting through the tunnels as they ventured deeper into the structure, they noticed more and more skeletons littering the ground. The smell of moldering leather and dry dusty bones blended with the green scent of creeping ivy. It was still better than the odorous smell of spiders.

Halfway down another hall, Tamlen let slip a small gasp. He dashed ahead of Maiara, coming to a stop in front of an old statue. It was leaning against a column and it had to be at least ten feet tall; quite a bit taller than the two elves. The figure was androgynous, clad in stone carved robes that fell to the ground and holding a spear in its right hand. A tall miter covered most of its head and a pair of gilded wings stretched out from its back.

Tamlen was looking up at the sculpture, amazement etched into his tanned face. “I can’t _believe_ this. You recognize this statue, don’t you?”

Maiara looked at it, trying to decipher its features into something familiar. “It’s… elven?”

Her vhenan rolled his eyes at her lame answer. “Back when our people lived in Arlathan, statues like these adorned the Creators.” His eyes shifted to the skeletons that lay scattered on the ground. “When the shems enslaved us, much of that lore was lost.”

She followed his gaze and asked, “Do you think these bodies… Do you think they’re ancient elves?”

He shrugged his shoulders, moving his attention back to the stone figure. “I don’t know. This looks like human architecture… with a statue of _our_ people. Can these ruins date back to the time of Arlathan?”

“But we’re nowhere _near_ Arlathan.” She contested, waving an arm out in reference to the ruin. They were in Ferelden and Arlathan had been much further north, around where Antiva and the Tevinter Imperium had later emerged.

“We must have lived in other places, too. All of Elvhenan was ours. Even if elves _didn’t_ live here, its architects knew of our gods.” Tamlen avidly countered, his eyes brightening in the gloom. “I’d never have guessed ancient elves might have lived _here_! With humans!”

“The Keeper will want to see this.” Maiara added. _We should have waited_. The air felt too cold for the Brecilian Forest.

Tamlen nodded fervently. “When the clans come together, she’ll have so much to share.”

They started walking down the hall again, with Tamlen occasionally looking back over his shoulder at the statue. “This is so great. See? I told you it would be worth it.”

“We should hurry and find something to take back,” she said, looking around nervously. “I don’t like the feel of the air here.”

“Neither do I.” he agreed with a shudder. “Okay, let’s find something good. Something like a book, or maybe a smaller version of that figure.”

A book would be best, she knew. While most of them didn’t read elvish, the Keeper and her First did. A book would likely have invaluable lore and information. “Do you know which of the Creators that statue depicted?”

Tamlen nodded enthusiastically. “Falon’Din.”

“The Friend of the Dead,” she intoned knowingly. “That would explain some things about this place.”

“You mean how it looks like a tomb?” He’d clearly been thinking the same thing as her.

Her eyes fell to one of the skeletons leaning against a wall. “A tomb _and_ a battleground.” Some of the skeletons had scraps of leather armor stringing them together, but others looked like whatever cloth they’d once worn had been eaten away by time. _I’m sure some critters had a hand in that, as well._

“Maybe they were guarding elders in uthenera?” He supplied helpfully, edging around another corpse.

Maiara shrugged. “Could be.” She knew about the ancient practice, but she didn’t know as much as Tamlen likely did.

There was a wide recess halfway down the hall, with a circular platform laid into the ground. A door was centered in the back of the wall. It looked like it might lead to another large chamber. Hopefully it would be one with decent artifacts to choose from.

Stepping over the platform, the two elves were shocked when they were suddenly enveloped by acrid black and green smoke. Coughing through the hazy, they backed up to a wall, covering their noses and mouths and waiting for the smoke to clear so they could find the door. When it cleared, it revealed the skeletons _standing_ in front of them.

Shock laid in and Maiara almost didn’t draw her sword in time. One of the blades from a skeleton clashed against her own sword and she shoved the creature back, causing it to crash to the ground and the bones to shatter.

She heard Tamlen swearing behind her, struggling to aim his bow as the monstrosities attempted to swarm them. Maiara held them off, sweeping her sword out in front of her like a torch to combat the darkness. Somehow the cursed things managed to _hiss_ at them. The very sound caused her to shake. Whatever had animated the skeletons, it was evil.

Unlike the spiders, however, the skeletons would break to pieces at every strike. Terrifying as they were, they were startlingly easy to defeat. Within minutes, the ancient bones were scattered all over the ground, this time for good.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. They stood there, still panting and shaking from fear.

“Walking corpses…” Tamlen whispered, trembling. “I never… this place is haunted!”

“Void take this place,” Maiara breathed, her voice coming out unsteadily. “Tamlen, let’s get out of here. Please. Before something…. Before something _worse_ attacks!”

He stared at her uncomprehending and then shook his head. “No. I’m not leaving until we find something to bring back.”

Maiara thrust a hand out to point at the bones strewn across the ground. “Did this _not_ scare you? Because _I’m_ scared. Lethallin, please-“

“Mai, just stop.” His curt tone cut her off. “I’m not going back until I get what I came for. If you’re scared, then go back.”

She stood frozen, staring at him in shock. His eyes were determined and his face set in a stoic mask. She couldn’t understand _why_ he wasn’t willing to leave. There had to be some reason he wasn’t willing to tell her. Why he would keep something secret from her, she didn’t know.

“I won’t leave without you,” she said quietly, stepping up to lay a hand on his arm. Her brown eyes were pleading now as she looked up at him, begging him silently to just _leave_.

He looked down at her impassively. “Then it’s settled. Let’s go.”

Without another look at the bones, Tamlen went to the door. As all the others had been, it was unlocked. Maiara felt uneasy, more so than ever before. She didn’t want him to open the door.

She blinked. The door was open.

She was hit with a nauseating smell. It was rot, darkness, blood, and corruption. A strangling feeling wound its way up through her throat and she sprung forward through the door, shouting with her sword drawn. Stunned, Tamlen was left behind in the doorway as her sword crashed into the dark shape that had been about to claw into him. An unearthly roar shook the chamber and Maiara was pushed back by whatever she’d smashed into with her blade.

When she’d skidded back on the stone, she could finally see the beast she’d engaged. It was a massive bear, but it was unlike any bear she’d ever seen. Its fur was matted, sloughing off from its flesh in most areas, exposing the muscle and tissue beneath. The meat showing through the fur was coated in blood and other fluids, spattered in festering wounds, and pierced by large bony spines.

 _A demon…_ her first thought was of the story the hunters had told them.

The bear – or whatever it was – roared again, causing her to tremble in fear. It was a monster; a creature from the Beyond. The thick smell of blood and corruption wafted off, entrenching her in a veil of fear.

It snarled, baring its bloody, yellowed fangs. She could see maggots wriggling in its face and she felt ill. It pawed the ground, preparing to charge her. Before she could bring her sword up to block it, she saw the beast stagger and it veered to the right, missing her as it crashed into the wall behind her. She saw arrows protruding out like the spines and she remembered Tamlen was with her.

“ _I’ll protect you.” He’d said with a cheesy smile._

She took a deep breath, immediately regretted it when she almost retched, then flung herself back at the bear, striking at it with as much strength as she could muster. The bear let out a roar of pain and she screamed back at it, pulling her sword free with a squirt of blood. Battering it again and again, with arrow support from Tamlen, she cleaved through the rotted, corrupted flesh of the monster.

After what felt like an eternity, the beast toppled to the floor, going down with a mournful moan of pain she wouldn’t have expected from such a miscreation. She stood there, her sword held over it like it might get back up any moment. It didn’t. Its whole body was heaving with its labored breathing, his mouth hanging open and exposing its bloody tongue and teeth. Its black eyes were hazy, but focused on her as she stood above it, an avatar of death.

The sword came down, severing its head from its rotting body.

Tamlen was standing next to her now, a hand on her shoulder. “By the Creators… what _was_ that thing?”

She shook her head, stumbling away from the corpse. Lurching over to a wall unmarked by blood, she tried vomiting again, but nothing came out. There was nothing left and she started crying in frustration. She was tired of the death and the gore and the darkness. Everything was too _close_ and suffocating. Her body ached to be outside, under the moons she was sure had risen into the night sky.

An image of the silver pool from earlier that day rose to the surface of her mind. Its cool, refreshing water running all over her body, washing away the grime and madness of the venture into the ruins. She took a shuddering breath through her tears and leaned against the wall, her sword still gripped tightly in her hands.

When she heard Tamlen stepping up behind her, she didn’t have the energy to fight against him when he pulled her from the wall into his arms. She dropped the sword, letting it clatter against the stone floor as she grasped at him for support. He held her close, his arms protecting her from the darkness as she wept.

* * *

 

When she was done with her breakdown, Maiara took in the rest of the room. It was a large, circular chamber with a dais in the center supporting a massive mirror framed by two equally huge statues. The whole focus of the room seemed to be surrounding the mirror, but there was another hall that branched off at the back of the room. Stones had tumbled out from the hall’s entryway, implying another cave in would block further progress. It seemed the mirror chamber was the final stop in the ancient ruins.

“There’s nothing here,” Maiara observed, shaking her head tiredly as she looked around the room. “We should leave.”

Tamlen was focused on the center of the room. “You aren’t going to leave without taking a closer look at the mirror, are you?”

Her gaze skipped over the dark glass. “I don’t… I don’t like the way it feels.”

He was slowly gravitating towards the dais, his steps unhurried. “It sat here for who knows how many centuries – what could be so dangerous?” He looked back at her with a tender smile. “Don’t worry; I won’t break it.”

She looked away, her eyes moving to the door, fearing something might come through at any moment. She wanted to leave as soon as possible. The clan must be worried about them by now. They’d been gone all day and Maiara hadn’t told anyone she was leaving. Sure, they must have suspected she’d be out with Tamlen, but something just wasn’t _right_ about the whole situation.

“I wonder what this writing is for? Maybe this isn’t-“ She heard him gasp and she whirled to see him standing on the dais. He looked back at her. “Did you see that? I think something moved inside the mirror.”

First, she didn’t like the sound of that. Second, she didn’t see _anything_ in the mirror. Not even a reflection. Her heart jumped into her throat, but fear kept her from moving any closer. “Get away from it, Tamlen.”

He ignored her, looking back to the wine dark glass. He started moving up the steps, closer to the mirror. “I just want to know what it _is_.”

Maiara _was_ close enough to see something flash across the surface. Fear coated her like a shroud. “Tamlen, move away.”

 _He isn’t listening_.

He looked back at her, exhilaration shining through his reflective eyes. “Don’t you see it? There it is again!”

“I didn’t see anything,” she lied, coaxing herself into moving closer. She just needed to take his hand. Then she could pull him away and they could leave together.

“There!” He exclaimed as another light bloomed across the surface. He was completely transfixed. “Can you feel that? I think it knows we’re here. I just want to take a closer look…”

 _Almost close enough._ She grabbed his right hand. He touched the mirror with his left. She could feel the tremor that ran through his body as he gasped.

“Tamlen, stop!” She cried, trying to pull him away.

He resisted her, standing as still and solid as a statue. His blue eyes were blown wide and full of light. “It’s… it’s showing me places. I can see…” He shook his head. “Some kind of city… underground?”

“Ma vhenan,” she pleaded, pulling on his arm like a child. _Why won’t he listen to me?!_ “Ma vhenan, _please!_ ”

He was still talking, relaying what he was seeing through the power of the mirror. Suddenly, he gasped, his frame going rigid with fright.

“It…it _saw_ me!” His entire body was vibrating, as if he were fighting something she couldn’t see. “I can’t look away!”

The room started spinning and Maiara felt weak. She tried to breathe, but she felt like she was drowning. A violent tremor shuddered out from the mirror and Maiara found herself being forcefully thrown back and Tamlen being ripped from her grasp.

She screamed his name, watching from the floor as darkness descended on him. He never looked away from the mirror, his face a mask of dread as the power took him.

Maiara blacked out.

* * *

 

Words screamed out at her from the darkness.

_Vhenan!_

_Mana! Ma halani!_

_Ir abelas._

_Ir abelas, ma vhenan._

* * *

 

She felt sick.

There was sunlight on her face.

Her eyes were heavy and they burned when she opened them. A man stood over her. A _human_. His skin was dark, like hers, and he had hair on his face. He looked concerned.

She tried to open her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

The man’s lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear him.

Sound exploded in her head, hurting her sensitive ears.

“Can you hear me?!” She knew he was talking, but it sounded like a shout. “I’m… very sorry.”

Darkness takes her.

* * *

 

She can hear Tamlen screaming in the shadows.

Then… nothing.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation Notes:  
> Fenedhis - a common curse  
> Ma sa’lath – “my one love”  
> Ma’lan – a poetic variant of saying “girlfriend”  
> Uthenera – “long sleep” or “endless dream”/ancient elves tired of immortality would enter this state in order to walk the Fade, sometimes for centuries at a time.  
> Mana - "Stop" or "wait"  
> Ma halani - "Help me"  
> Ir abelas - "I'm sorry"


	14. Arise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maiara wakes up sick and is given a choice.

\-----------------------

9:30 Dragon, Draconis 26th

\-----------------------

 

 

The shadows were calling her name.

A shiver ran down her spine as she twisted, drowning in the darkness and the pain.

 _It’s too much! S_ he cried in the smothering blackness. _Make it stop!_

* * *

 

Maiara woke with a scream in her throat and panic wrapped around her like a veil. For a moment, she struggled, then realized the veil was actually just blankets. She stopped moving, lying in place panting and trying to get a grip on things. Her eyes were open now and she saw she was in an aravel. A small cry of relief escaped with a stream of hot tears.

After a few minutes of quiet crying, she disentangled herself from the cocoon of blankets, shuddering when she thought of the spiders in the cave.

 _The cave…_ Her eyes widened as her mind was flooded with memories. _Tamlen!_

She scrambled out of the aravel, noting vaguely that she was in healing robes as she stumbled out into the bright light of day. Her vision swam and she almost fainted, reeling back against the aravel in a desperate bid for support. Instead of the wagon, she felt someone’s hands steadying her.

For a crazy, hopeful moment, she thought it was Tamlen. Then her vision cleared and she saw it was another of her clan. Fenarel, like her, was one of the Sabrae clan’s warriors. They’d fought beside each other more than a few times in the past when they’d been called upon to protect the clan from bandits. He’d always been blissfully neutral and kind.

He was holding her steady now, his green eyes wide with worry as he looked her over for any obvious injuries. “I’ve got you, lethallan,” he was saying, helping her to stand on her own and speaking slowly for her benefit. “You’re back at camp. Everyone is worried sick about you. How do you feel?”

 _Like death_.

She licked her parched lips and he handed her his canteen. She drank greedily, causing some water to dribble out over her chin. Wiping at the spillage, she coughed and found her voice. “I’m fine.” She looked around and saw that most of the camp was functioning normally. A few faces looked their way, but overall they were ignored. There was one face she didn’t see that made her stomach drop like a stone. “Fenarel… where is Tamlen?”

His thin blonde brows drew together in a look of consternation. “I’m sorry, Mai. We don’t know. The shem who brought you here saw no sign of him.”

It was as she’d feared. The shadows… for a moment she’d thought it had all been some awful fever dream.

“There was a human?” She asked softly, trying to distract herself from her worst thoughts. She thought she remembered something about a human.

Fenarel nodded affirmatively. “Yes. He brought you back two days ago. You don’t remember him?”

“I…” Did she? Or was she thinking of the other humans, the ones they’d found fleeing the forest. “I don’t know? My mind is unclear. I was in a cave, then… nothing.” She realized the full depth of what he’d said and she whirled on him, panic clutching her heart tight in its fist. “Two days?!”

 _Creators… oh Tamlen._ If it had been two days… where could he be that they could not find him?

“He was a Grey Warden,” he was still talking and she was doing her best to listen. “He appeared out of nowhere with you slung over his shoulder. He had two other shems with him and a durgen’len.”

She frowned as he relayed the events of the last two days. That was a _lot_ of visitors for their small clan.

“You were delirious with fever. You said something about a cave? He said he found you outside a cave in the forest, unconscious and alone.” He looked around nervously before continuing. “He left you here and took one of the other shems with him. The other two are here in camp.”

“I feel sick,” she rasped, leaning against the aravel again. For a moment, she was sure she’d be vomiting again. She coughed and her stomach heaved, but nothing came up and she was thankful. Fenarel was rubbing her back, his hand warm through the thin cloth of the robe she wore.

“The Keeper has been healing you with old magic,” he explained soothingly. “Maybe I should-“

“I need to talk to Marethari,” she interjected. She had to tell her everything now that she was awake. If they acted fast, maybe they could still find Tamlen, maybe they could-

Pain shot through her like a dozen arrows. She doubled over, gasping in agony and clutching at her sides. Whatever it was, it felt like it was _everywhere_. There was no source. It was in her blood.

“Lethallan!” Fenarel held her gently, moving her to sit in the grass where she could curl up more easily.

She didn’t know how long she was lying there in the grass with her head in his lap. The feeling of pain and sickness – of _wrongness_ – was pulsing through her in a slow wave. In time, it ebbed and she was able to rise again.

Fenarel was watching her warily; as if afraid she might collapse again. She avoided his gaze and looked out at the rest of the camp.

“Is anyone looking for Tamlen?” She asked quietly, afraid she would break; her body scattering like so many dusty bones in the dark.

“Of course!” He blurted quickly, jumping to his feet beside her. “Of _course_ they are. Most of the hunters are off looking for him right now.”

She nodded, closing her eyes to urge the tears away. Surely there was still time…

“The Keeper wanted to talk to you as soon as you awoke. Stay here – I’ll go get her.” Without waiting for a response, he took off running through the camp, his shoulder length hair billowing out behind him like a flag.

Watching him go, Maiara returned to sitting in the grass. Closing her eyes, she’d only just leaned her head back against the wagon when she heard the Keeper’s voice.

“I see you are awake, da’len.” Her wispy voice was laced with compassion.

Maiara looked up at the tiny, gray haired woman. Her golden skin always had a sort of glow about it, making her seem almost ethereal compared to the rest of the clan. Her vallaslin was laid in gold to match, shining out of her skin.

It was the same scrolling lines she'd always traced on Tamlen’s face; Dirthamen, the Keeper of Secrets.

“It is fortunate that Duncan found you when he did…” Marethari knelt in the grass beside her so she wouldn’t have to get up. The Keeper’s thin hands reached out to touch her face and she closed her eyes at the gentle touch. “I know not what dark power held you, but it nearly bled the life from you. It was difficult even for  _my_ magic to keep you alive.”

A slow and steady panic began working its way up into her chest again. Her eyes flashed upon to see the concern in Marethari’s sage green eyes. “Then… Tamlen could be sick as well?”

Sorrow rippled through her large eyes and the Keeper moved her face away too slow. “If he encountered the same thing you did, yes. The Grey warden said he found you outside a cave, already stricken.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she read into the Keeper’s unspoken words. She did not think they would find Tamlen. “I kept telling him that we should have come back!” She was crying in earnest now and Marethari collected her into her arms, stroking her hair and whispering calming words in her ear, drawing the tears out until she no longer felt the need to weep.

“Do no worry, da’len. None of this is your fault.” She whispered softly, still petting Maiara’s hair. “Even I might have been intrigued by such a cave to explore it further.”

Maiara was silent, leaning into the Keeper for comfort and inhaling her familiar scent. She smelled of the herbs and incense that she often worked with as the clan’s Keeper and healer. Elfroot, herbal resins, amber, embrium, sage, and honey. Her scent conjured images of the untamed wilderness, of ancient lore and practices long forgotten. It was a reminder that she was safe and at home with her family.

Marethari continued her comforting, asking her questions about the cave and what they’d found. Maiara answered to the best of her ability, recalling everything she could. It was a long process, but she found that it helped for the Keeper to just listen without meting any judgement.

“Duncan thought there may have been darkspawn creatures inside the cave,” she said after the reveal of the walking corpses. “Is that true?”

 _Darkspawn_? She’d only heard of the creatures. Thinking back to the cave, she had certainly sensed a feeling of darkness and corruption, but she’d seen nothing like darkspawn. There had been _something_ though.

“There was… a _bear_.” She shivered, thinking about its rotting form. “It was… sick or something. It’s flesh was rotting off its bones. It had these growths, like spines, but I think _they_ were bones. They were… transformed or something. And it was _mad_. It almost killed us.” She buried her face in the Keeper’s robes, inhaled the scent of elfroot and calmed herself. “It was just festering in that dark room with the mirror.”

Marethari flinched. She pulled Maiara’s face up to look at her. She’d never seen the Keeper’s eyes look so haunted. “A mirror?”

 _Could she know?_ The cave was new. There was no way the Keeper could have been there before.

She nodded slowly, watching the older woman’s eyes carefully. “A mirror. It… it had no reflection. Tamlen touched it. I _begged_ him not to, but he touched it anyway. It showed him _things_ … then everything went dark.”

The Keeper’s eyes were guarded now. She sighed and motioned for Maiara to rise. They stood together and Marethari kept one hand on her shoulder. “How could something like that cause all of this?” She shook her head. “I have never heard of such a thing in all the lore we’ve collected.”

The golden elf began pacing between Maiara and the aravel, her thin brows drawn together and her lips flattened into a frown. “I was hoping for answers when you awoke, but there are only more questions.” Her emerald gaze locked onto Maiara. “And Tamlen remains missing. He is more important than any lore in these ruins. If he is as sick as you are, then his situation is grave.”

“Do you…” she was so scared. She didn’t want to ask, but she had to. “Do you think he still lives?”

Marethari’s shoulders sagged. “I will not lie to you, da’len. I do not know. We must pray to the Creators that he does and that he can be found.”

“If there is hope, then we must not give up.” She clenched her fists and stubbornly thrust her chin out as she looked down at the older woman. “I will search for him as well. I _know_ Tamlen. If anyone can find him, it’s me.”

She’d expected the Keeper to object. It was a pleasant surprise when the old woman smiled. “If you feel well enough, I will not stop you. Duncan returned to the cave to search for darkspawn, but we cannot rely on him to search for Tamlen. I have not seen this cave myself. Can you show us the way? Without you, we will not find it.”

Bowing her head in a gesture of thanks, she said, “I am up to the task, Keeper. We must find Tamlen.”

Marethari smiled and lightly touched her crown of dark hair. “I am ordering the clan to pack the camp so we can go north. Take Merrill with you to the cave. Find Tamlen if you can, but do it swiftly. We cannot risk the Blight. Dareth shiral, da’len.”

 _If you can_. It was an order not to linger. They’d already spent two days looking. That left Maiara with one day to find her vhenan and hope that he lived. She stood straight and looked at the Keeper with sorrowful eyes. “I’ll find Merrill right away.”

The Keeper nodded. “Go quickly, for Tamlen’s life hangs in the balance.”

* * *

 

Changing into her normal clothes and armor, Maiara stopped by Master Ilen to pick up supplies. Her sword had been left behind in the cave, so she would need a new one. She’d expected the irritable craftsman to be strict with her since she’d been out when she was supposed to be aiding him. As they weren’t often needed to defend the clan, warriors needed to take up various chores around the camp to make themselves useful. It had been her turn to assist the master craftsman, but she was clumsy and he was always so severe. He made her nervous and she was always more hindrance than help.

Instead of his usual tongue lashing, Ilen kept his grouching to a minimum. He’d given her new gear with minimal complaint and instead forced her to promise not to abandon her duties again. She’d hastily agreed, thanked him numerous times and slunk away as quickly as possible. She had to find Merrill and then return to the forest to search for Tamlen. There was only so much daylight left and she knew Marethari would move the clan at dusk.

The clan was already buzzing with rumors they prepared to collapse camp and move. She could hear some of them whispering, speculating about the discovery of the cave and the arrival of the Grey Warden and his recruits. Apparently the recruits were still in camp, but they were mostly keeping to themselves. One was a dwarf and the other a red haired human woman. There had been another - a dark haired man carrying a staff - that had left with the Warden.

 _A mage?_ She’d never seen a human mage. She’d heard humans kept their own mages – and the flat ear mages from the cities – in prisons.

With the camp so full of activity, it was difficult to find Merrill. As First to the Keeper, she was often set apart from the rest of the clan. Having felt such isolation herself, Maiara had befriended the awkward mage. She’d been traded to them from another clan years ago and has been studying under Marethari ever since. Maiara had been brought to the clan by Ashalle, a friend of her parents. She’d always looked different from most of the clan and so she’d felt like an outsider around the other children. Everything about her was dark compared to the rest of them. Merrill was one of the few in the clan who had dark hair like her.

Before she found the absent First, she caught sight of the visitors. She saw the dwarf first, his short stature drawing her attention. Then she noticed the red haired woman next to him. They were standing a ways out from the tree line, watching the Dalish archers practice their shooting.

Most of her experiences with humans had been negative. Then again, most of those humans had been bandits and they would have been aggressive towards anyone. Many of the human settlements they’d interacted with had been fairly neutral, as they’d been interested in trading and nothing more.

 _I’ve never met a dwarf before_ , she realized, observing the strangers as she approached. If they were Grey Warden recruits, they must have been with the man who had found her. Maybe they’d seen something that could be of use to her before she left the camp.

“Savhalla, strangers.” She hadn’t meant to sneak up on them, but the woman jumped when she greeted them. She offered a contrite smile. “I apologize. I merely meant to greet you.”

The dwarf was blonde with bright green eyes. He had hair on his face, just like the dark skinned man who had rescued her. _Is it called… a beard?_ Elves did not grow hair like that, so it was always a shock when she saw it.

“No problem, sister,” he said jovially, his lips curving into a smile. “We were a bit distracted. You elves are pretty damn good with those bows.”

Maiara smiled in return. He seemed a pleasant fellow. “Some of us, yes. Alas, I find myself lacking in this regard.” She noticed the woman had a bow slung over her shoulder. She was shocked to see it was one of Master Ilen’s creations. He wouldn’t have parted with it easily. “I see you have one of Master Ilen’s work. You must be a fine shot.”

The woman blushed and averted her eyes. “I… well, maybe. My mother was an excellent archer. I was thinking of taking it up.”

There was something in her voice that Maiara understood all too well. The woman – no, she’s clearly just a girl – had recently lost her mother. She understood that sort of loss all too well. She offered her a solemn, sympathetic look. “I see. I’m sure you’ll be wonderful in no time.”

The girl looked back at her with stormy gray eyes. “You’re the one Duncan found. At the cave.”

She smiled bitterly. “Ah, yes. I suppose I’m easy to recognize.”

The dwarf shrugged. “Not a bad thing, is it?”

He seemed to be genuinely confused by her sullenness. It drew a softer smile to her face. “It doesn’t have to be. I apologize.” She wondered how she was supposed to talk to them. “I… I don’t suppose either of you saw anyone else when your Warden found me?”

They shook their heads in tandem. The girl was the one who answered. “I’m sorry. We’ve heard that your friend was with you.”

Nodding her head, Maiara couldn’t help but let slip a small sigh. “Yes, Tamlen. I was hoping…”

“Are you going to look for him?” The human was very perceptive. “I noticed your clan is preparing to leave.”

“We can’t afford to stay here for much longer,” she admittedly, her eyes darkening with unspoken anger. “Even if we have to leave someone behind.”

“But you’re not gonna leave him, are you?” The dwarf asked, watching her carefully. “He’s your friend, isn’t he?”

She smiled sadly. “I will try to find him. The Keeper has tasked me with bringing her First to the cave so we may search for him together. I’m hoping that we may have some luck.”

For some reason, she didn’t mind telling them. They were outsiders, yes, but they didn’t seem to have any judgement in their eyes. There was a healthy amount of respect in their looks and movements and she liked that.

The two shared a glance before turning their focus to her. “We’ll help.” The dwarf said it like it was a given. The girl nodded firmly.

Maiara was astonished. “I cannot ask that. You two are strangers. This is a matter for the clan-“

“Look sister, we said we’re gonna help. You gonna turn down free help?” His green eyes and stern tone of voice brooked no argument.

Her mouth was hanging open. She was so shocked that he was belligerently offering their aid. It was… kind of humorous in a way. “I… I don’t even know your names.”

“Adoracia Cousland.”

“Leif Brosca. There, intros are out of the way.” He smiled and then she laughed.

“I am Maiara Mahariel,” she managed to gasp out between giggles.

The girl was smiling too now. It was so strange and refreshing. She hadn’t thought she would find any joy in such a dark day. Her laughter subsided and she bowed her head to the two who were no longer strangers.

“Ma serannas. I am in your debt.” She squared her shoulders. “We must find Merrill – our First – before we leave. As a mage, she will prove invaluable.”

“What’s this ‘First’ look like?” Leif asked dubiously.

She held her hand up to the bottom of her nose. “About this tall, short black hair, green eyes, and carrying a staff.”

He nodded, rolling his shoulders. “Alright, let’s find this mage and get gone. We’re wasting daylight.”

Adoracia sighed, a tired but pleasant smile on her freckled face. “He’s right. Duncan and Nereus have been gone for some time. We should be out there.”

Maiara wondered what sort of people she’d fallen in with. They seemed so kind. It wasn’t anything she would have expected from a human or a dwarf. She hoped they could help her. If she couldn’t find Tamlen… she didn’t want to think about that.

Another wave of sick and pain ran through her, but she managed not to collapse like before. She must have shown some sign, because Adoracia gave her a concerned look. She smiled and waved her off. If Tamlen was as sick as she was… he didn’t have the Keeper healing him. He couldn’t have gotten far. She hoped.

* * *

 

They found Merrill on the far side of camp. She was fidgeting nervously with a loose thread on her robes. She jumped to attention when she noticed the three figures approaching.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you. I mean, I did. Just now.” The skittish mage tended to ramble a bit from time to time.

Maiara had always found it endearing. She smiled. “It’s okay, Merrill. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

Merrill bobbed her head quickly, causing the little braids in her short hair to bounce. “Right. I wasn’t waiting long, though, I promise. I just finished getting ready…” she trailed off, looking between Leif and Adoracia. “We have company?”

“We’re here to help,” Adoracia offered calmly. She smiled disarmingly. “It sounds like your friend is in danger.”

The mage’s big green eyes darted between the two strangers. She nodded her head slowly. “We could certainly use the help. As the Keeper’s apprentice, I may see something Maiara may have missed. Not that you don’t see a lot. Because you do. You’re good at that.”

“Focus, Merrill.” Maiara said soothingly. She hoped the presence of outsiders wouldn’t make things worse for the socially awkward young woman.

The pale elf took in a deep breath. “Right. Our main objective is to find Tamlen, of course. We should hurry. He may not have much time.”

“You got everything you need, kid?” Leif sounded concerned for Merrill.

She smiled nervously and lifted her staff. “I should hope so!”

Maiara led the way, leading their small party through the trees and out of Marethari’s sight. She doubted the Keeper would approve of the extra people she was bringing with her. After all, it was a matter for the clan to deal with.

_“You gonna turn down free help?”_

To save Tamlen? She would welcome the aid of the Dread Wolf himself.

* * *

 

It took over an hour for them to reach the part of the woods she and Tamlen had explored the other day. They’d passed by the pretty silver pool where she’d spent a brief, blissful time in the arms of her vhenan. From there, she followed the trail that had led them to the deer. It was a rough hike that she hadn’t expected. It had been so easy before, lightly flitting through the trees and brush, the wind in her hair and the grass underfoot. Time had flown so quickly when she’d been whiling the afternoon away with Tamlen.

Now she was drained and panting, pushing through the underbrush like it was a physical enemy. She was so _tired_. Although, it seemed it was difficult for most of them. The only one who seemed completely undaunted was Leif. He was deftly climbing over boulders, hills, and slicing through cumbersome vines. For a time, it seemed he was leading the way more than she was.

Eventually they came to the ledge where she and Tamlen had cornered the deer and later been interrupted by the humans. The deer they’d killed had been dragged off by something in the time they’d left it behind. She could still make out blood dried into the ground.

A black arrow whizzed past her ear.

“Get down!” Leif shouted, darting in front of her.

She tried to focus on where the arrow had come from as she scrambled to find cover. Peering beyond the blackberry brambles, she could see faces. They were like the bear. They looked distorted and wrong.

Leif had already begun to engage them in an upfront battle, forcing them to abandon their bows for daggers. Merrill was already beginning to cast, drawing up the earth around the creatures and slamming it into them with the force of a magical fist. With the danger of arrows no longer a threat, Maiara ran down the path, joining Leif against the foul creatures.

They were even worse up close. They showed too much teeth, their eyes bulged out of their tight, skull-like faces, and they smelled like carrion. The monsters growled and snapped their teeth; guttural war cries broke through their throats like glass as they attacked with a mindless voracity she hadn’t experienced since her fight with the bear.

Spells and arrows commanded the attention of other creatures from further down the path; courtesy of Merrill and Adoracia. Maiara focused on the _things_ that had made it to her and Leif. The dwarf was quite the agile rogue, dashing around and bashing the fiends with a mace or stabbing them with his dagger, disappearing before they could get a strike in. When he’d disabled them, Maiara took them down with her great sword, severing heads, limbs, and tearing bodies in two.

With the four of them working together, the monsters were soon dealt with. Their black blood was everywhere, coating the forest floor, trees, and the armor that she and Leif wore. It smelled foul and she wanted to wash it off, but there was no time.

“What _were_ those things?” Merrill cried, joining her and Leif near the bodies. Her green eyes were wide with fear and Maiara could see her trembling.

“Darkspawn,” Leif grunted, nudging a corpse with his foot. “Never saw one before.”

“Are you sure?” Maiara asked, looking down at the creatures with abhorrence. They were so _hideous_.

The dwarf nodded. “Oh yeah. Lots of guys in the carta had faced ‘em in the Deep Roads on salvage. Looks just like they’d described.”

“I’ve seen pictures,” Adoracia admitted quietly with a shiver. “They must be darkspawn. What else could look like this?”

“I’ve never seen anything like them,” Merrill whimpered. “You can _smell_ the evil on them.”

Maiara had to agree. The stench was pure corruption. Just like the bear. “These weren’t here before. There was a bear that was… tainted. Or something. But not these… _things_.”

“Duncan said he’d sensed the taint nearby,” Leif said, looking down the path. “That’s when we found you. He’d led us through the forest because he'd said there were darkspawn.”

“Tamlen is out here alone with these monsters on the prowl,” Maiara said in a hushed tone. “We _must_ find him.”

“I agree. One person alone against these…” Adoracia didn’t finish her thought. She didn’t need to.

They continued down the path, each of them looking about warily as they walked. Maiara took the lead with Merrill by her side. The two recruits were speaking quietly behind them, but she couldn’t make out their words. They were probably worried about their Warden.

“Lethallan,” Merrill spoke softly, looking up at her with troubled green eyes. “Are you hurt?”

Frowning slightly at the question, Maiara did a quick inspection just to be sure. She didn’t _feel_ any injuries. Just the slow, steady pulse of _wrongness_ flowing through her veins. “Not that I know of. Why?”

“It’s just that you’re… well, to be honest, you’re looking a wee bit _pale_.” Merrill squeezed the words out nervously and looked away. “In fact, I’d say you even look feverish. Should I be checking your temperature?”

Maiara vehemently shook her head. “No. I’m fine. Thank you, Merrill, but… I’m fine.”

The other elf gave her a surprisingly skeptical look. “Sure you are. I’m _very_ convinced by your repetition.”

“Ir abelas, lethallan.” Maiara muttered under her breath. “I just need to find Tamlen. I’m worried.”

The petite mage sighed. “I know. I want to find him, too.”

Further down the path, they came across an odd campsite. Maiara couldn’t determine if there had been a fire or not, but it appeared that at least two people had spent some time in the dirt there.

“Nereus doesn’t build normal fires,” Leif supplied, looking over the area with a shrewd eye. “He’s a mage, so he just uses magic.”

“The Keeper would scold me for using magic so carelessly.” Merrill bemoaned softly.

Maiara looked further down the path. “This is only a day old. It must have taken them some time to find their way back out here.”

“We know they were here, at least. And it’s in the right direction. We should move on.” Adoracia spoke quietly, but with intent.

She nodded. “Let’s go.”

Deeper into the woods they went. It was still warm, like it always was in the Brecilian, but there was a different feel to the air than there had been the other day. It reminded Maiara of her time in the ruins. There was a certain _murkiness_ about it all. The darkspawn had that feeling about them.

 _Could they be the source of all of this_? She wondered what the Blight was truly capable of.

Merrill stopped walking. “Do you hear that?”

Her voice had fallen to the barest whisper. Maiara looked around curiously, tilting her head in an effort to hear whatever it was that had gotten Merrill so anxious. She heard… nothing. Absolutely nothing. When the four of them had stopped walking, she’d been able to realize it.

“The forest has stopped,” she breathed the words just as quietly, as if fearful that _something_ would overhear them.

The mage’s large green eyes were swiveling around fretfully. They took in the golden light filtering down from the trees and reflected it, making them seem even larger. “Something unnatural is in the air.”

“I’ve felt this before…” she uttered quietly. “In the cave. Before everything went to the Void.”

“It seems whatever you woke inside that cave has… spread outside,” Merrill intoned nervously. She turned her head to Maiara with a startled expression. “I don’t- I didn’t mean that _you_ -“

“It’s okay,” she said with an insincere smile. “We should never have gone down there.”

She kept walking.

* * *

 

Not far from the campsite they’d encountered more darkspawn. They’d fought them as they had before; Leif and Maiara ran to the forefront while Adoracia and Merrill took them out from afar. There were more of them this time. Maiara was worried about there being so many of them. If the Grey Warden and his mage had gone ahead of them, wouldn’t they have stopped the darkspawn? What if they’d been overwhelmed?

She voiced her concern after another encounter with the fell beasts. Leif had stubbornly denied that the Warden could have fallen.

“He’s got that bastard mage with him,” he’d growled, kicking at a darkspawn corpse on his way by. “I’ve fought with him. That human is tough as bronto hide. And Duncan… He’s the Commander of the Grey. I don’t think they give out titles like that for nothing.”

She hoped he was right. They were getting closer. She could feel it as much as she recognized the scenery. Soon they’d be at the cave, looking into a line of darkness carved into the rock. She could already hear the wind blowing through the cleft, its cold song ringing hollow in her ears and reminding her of screams in the shadows.

* * *

 

They stood over the mouth of the cave, looking down into the darkness edged with silken spider webs. A foul stench wafted out from within, stronger than it had been before. As before, it smelled of decay, but now even the natural scent of the forest had been choked out. Dark sounds echoed out from the broken chambers within.

Leif stepped up beside her and looked down into the hole. “Let me get this straight. You and your friend took a look at this and thought it was a _good_ idea to go in?”

Maiara sighed. “I begged him not to. But I…” she started down the rocks on her way in. “I couldn’t let him go alone.”

Once more, she passed into the shadows beneath the forest. Three more followed her down.

* * *

 

 _At least this time there are no spiders_. She had to look on the bright side sometimes. The spiders had been atrocious. To deal with the arachnids _and_ darkspawn would be too much.

“These are the ruins?” Merrill asked curiously, her bright eyes looking all over the hall. “You were right when you said it looked human. Yet there are elven artifacts scattered amongst the debris. How peculiar.”

Maiara was already walking down the hall. There were darkspawn corpses here and there, along with the dried husks of the spiders she and Tamlen had killed. For the most part the ruin looked relatively undisturbed. It looked the same, but it felt different. It was more difficult for her to go through it again. Before, she had wanted to leave because it had frightened her. Now she would not be content to leave until she’d searched every nook and cranny. She had to be sure Tamlen wasn’t there. If he wasn’t in the ruins…

 _He could be anywhere_. The Brecilian Forest was huge. It covered most of southeastern Ferelden. Her clan had never delved too deeply into the forest because of the legends of horrors that were always coming out of it. If Tamlen was sick or disoriented and he’d somehow made it out of the cave, then he could have wandered through some part of the forest that none of them had seen before.

She shook her head. _I can’t think about this._ In her mind, she knew she just needed to clear the ruins. Search first; then worry about what came next.

She’d already come to the hall that split in two different directions. She didn’t want to split up, but she knew every corner needed to be looked through.

“We can cover more ground if we split into two groups,” Leif said from behind her, as if he’d read her mind. “Adora and I will go one way. You two go the other.”

“We’ll go down the left passage, then.” She said, nodding in agreement. “We went right last time. There was a nest of spiders that way. There shouldn’t be anything left.”

The dwarf nodded and started down that way. “Alright. We’ll be sure to keep an eye out. Good luck.”

“You, too.” She sighed, watching them go. Merrill was looking at her expectantly. “If we run into trouble, you stay behind me.”

The smaller woman nodded. “Right. After all, you’re the one with the big sword.”

Maiara smiled and pulled the heavy blade from her back. It wasn’t the one she was used to, but it would do well enough. She’d already taken out plenty of darkspawn with it.

Going down the left corridor was surprisingly like going down the right for the first time. The door at the end opened into a large room with trees growing down from outside. Parts of the floor and ceiling had collapsed and there was a far too healthy nest of spiders within. Luckily the spiders were much easier to deal with when she had a mage at her back. Merrill had a neat set of spells involving stones that hurled through the air at great speeds, bright bolts of energy, and even lightning. The spiders were dealt with in no time flat.

“You’re very useful to have around, Merrill.” She saw the smaller elf blush at the compliment and look away.

“Oh, ma serannas. The Keeper almost never tells me that.” She admitted with a small laugh. “I’ve never seen giant spiders before. They’re… gross.”

She laughed. “Yes, they really are. Thanks to you, I barely have any spider guts on me this time.”

The mage made a disgusted noise when she hopped around the corpses. “We still have to _step_ in them, though!”

Maiara made a revolted face. Yes, she had already stepped in the slimy entrails herself. “I try not to think about that part.”

Going through the next door, they could hear a scuffle further down the hall. They cautiously edged around the corner where they saw Leif and Adoracia fighting a small group of darkspawn. Maiara ran ahead with a battle cry, startling the darkspawn and drawing their attention away from the two rogues.

She’d engaged one of them when she saw magic being thrown from a direction _other_ than behind her. One of the darkspawn was a mage. Its bolts had missed her at first, but as soon as she noticed it, something hit her with the strength of a waterfall. Flying backward from the sheer power, she collided against one of the crumbling walls. Something snapped and she cried out in pain.

The sounds of combat faded in and out as she tried to focus on getting up. Eventually, she forced herself to her feet, wincing when one of her legs threatened to buckle beneath her. She saw a couple darkspawn left alive, but the mage had been brought down since she’d gone crashing into the wall.

“Lethallan!” Merrill cried, running to her side. She looked down at Maiara’s leg and gasped. “Hold still!”

A pale golden light enveloped her leg, sending soothing pulses throughout the limb. The most unnerving feeling took place. She could _feel_ her bones moving back into place. It didn’t hurt. It just freaked her out a little. There had been blood pouring out from under her greaves, but it had stopped when the light had touched her. She put pressure on the leg and found that it was completely healed. She’d never been awake to experience healing magic before.

“Ma serannas,” she said sincerely before running back to deal with the last darkspawn.

When the last creature was dead, she looked to Leif and Adoracia, hoping one of them might have seen something, _anything._ She knew before asking. It was in their eyes.

They’d found nothing.

“Just more darkspawn,” Leif said without explaining anything more.

She nodded and then looked to the last door in the hall. The one that lead to the mirror chamber. “This is our last stop.”

“Duncan and Nereus must be inside.”

The door was closed, just like it had been when she and Tamlen had first explored. She wondered if it was soundproof. It wouldn’t surprise her. They hadn’t even heard the sound of Adoracia and Leif fighting the darkspawn when they’d been in a room just down the hall.

Leif still had his mace held at his side as he cautiously opened the door. They were hit with the pungent smell of decay. Maiara could see the bear she’d killed sprawled out on the floor nearby. Its bulky frame had mostly collapsed on itself by this point. There were too many… _colors_ going on. She looked away, to the mirror.

Two humans were standing on opposite sides of the mirror. One was the dark, bearded man who had rescued her. The other was pale, with light brown hair and a staff in his hand. They both turned to look at the door when it opened, surprise clear in their eyes.

The larger man, Duncan, looked first to Maiara, then to Merrill, and finally to his recruits. A wry smile pulled at his lips. “I see you two were not content to stay behind.”

Leif shrugged, not appearing sorry in the least. “The girl needed help looking for her friend. Were we supposed to sit in the grass and braid each other’s hair?”

The other man coughed to cover his laughter and Duncan’s smile grew wider. “No, I suppose you weren’t.” He looked back to Maiara. “You're the girl I found before... and you’ve encountered darkspawn on your return.”

“Did you hear us out there?” She demanded. He didn’t look too surprised to see the darkspawn corpses on the other side of the door. “Why didn’t you help?”

His thick brows lifted in amusement at her questions. “We would have, had we not been in battle ourselves.” He held a hand out to the room they all occupied. She could see now that there were more than a few darkspawn bodies littering the floor alongside the corrupted bear.

“Oh… my apologies.” She felt childish for lashing out at him.

He chuckled lightly. “It is no matter. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Duncan, as I’m sure you already know.”

“Maiara Mahariel,” she replied, her eyes roaming over him to look to the mirror.

It looked completely innocuous now. Its dark glass was vacant, as always. There were no flashes of light. It seemed to be… waiting, somehow.

“Your Keeper did not send you after me, did she?” Duncan asked, stepping in front of her to obscure the mirror. “I told her it was nothing to worry about. Nereus and I were in no true danger.”

“Nereus Amell, by the way,” the young man behind him spoke up with a grin. His blue eyes were strangely vibrant in the darkness of the underground chamber. He moved around the mirror to step up beside Duncan. “You are looking _much_ better, lady Mahariel.”

She stared at him, put off by his way of speaking to her. “I am no lady.” Giving him one last strange look, she returned her attention to Duncan. “She did not send us after you. We are looking for my companion, Tamlen. He was here with me, before you found me.”

Duncan nodded in understanding. “Yes, I recall her mentioning him. So, you and Tamlen entered this cave. Then you found this mirror. What happened after that?”

Once again, her eyes were drawn to the mirror in question. Nereus seemed to notice, too, because he looked from her to the mirror.

“Tamlen touched it,” she said quietly. “I… I blacked out after that.”

“I see. That’s… unfortunate.” Duncan said with a sigh.

Hopelessness was beginning to set in. “You… there’s no trace of him, is there? Not even a blasted handprint on the glass, I’ll bet.”

The Warden and his mage recruit shared a glance. Duncan looked back to her with pity in his eyes. “I am sorry. There is no sign that anyone else was ever here.”

She felt Merrill place a hand on her shoulder. “That mirror… what did it _do_?”

“The Grey Wardens have seen artifacts like this mirror before; it is Tevinter in origin, used for communication. Over time some of them simply… break.” He gestured to the bodies on the floor. “They become filled with the same taint as the darkspawn. Even that bear had been transformed by the taint into a bereskarn. Tamlen’s touch must have released it… It’s what made you sick – and Tamlen, too, I presume.”

 _I can’t give up yet!_ She shook her head, trying to move towards the mirror. Duncan blocked her path. “We could take the mirror to the Keeper. Maybe she can find a way to track Tamlen with it. You said it could be used to communicate. That must have some use, right?”

The Warden held her back. “The mirror is tainted. It will infect anyone who touches it. _You_ are already infected.”

The declaration was like a slap in the face. She stared up at him and said in a small voice: “…what?”

“You are infected,” he said gently, trying to soften the blow. “The darkspawn are drawn to the taint in the mirror. You would lead them to your clan and the sickness would follow.”

Merrill went to her side, staring up at Duncan with fierce green eyes. “I do not fear this sickness. The Keeper knows how to cure it. We could study the mirror; find a use for it.”

Duncan shook his head. “She may have weakened it, but she cannot cure it.”

Maiara was still reeling from the shock. She _knew_ she felt wrong. Was that what it was? “No. I can’t be. The Keeper said I was better. I woke up and I am okay.”

He was looking at her with pity again. “I’m sorry. Your recovery is only temporary. I can sense the sickness in you and it is spreading. Look inside yourself. You know it to be true.”

“I… you’re wrong.” She would not believe it. She couldn’t be sick. She had to find Tamlen.

The Warden merely sighed. He didn’t release his grip on her shoulders. “Confirm it with your Keeper later, if you like. For now, we must deal with the mirror…” He looked to Nereus, his eyes sending him some signal she could not identify. “It is a danger.”

The mage nodded and approached the foot of the dais, his staff held before him like a ward. Maiara sensed what he was going to do right before he cast the spell. She screamed for him to stop as she struggled against Duncan’s grasp.

There is movement in the glassy depths. He raised his staff, twisting one of his hands in the air as an invisible force enveloped the mirror. It shattered, light flashing from within the glass before it scattered. A sound, almost like a song and almost like screaming, rang throughout the chamber, echoing away as the last pieces of the mirror fell to the ground. The stone frame around the mirror was crushed as if from a great force.

Maiara sagged against the human’s arms as she looked at the ruins of the mirror. _Tamlen…_ How could she hope to find him now? It was her only connection to him.

Duncan gently roused her from her stupor. “We must leave. I must speak with your Keeper immediately about your cure.”

She pushed away from him and staggered backwards. “What about Tamlen? I’m not leaving without him.”

His eyes watched her emotionlessly as she paced back and forth like a caged animal. “There is nothing we can do.”

Maiara shook her head. “No. _I’m_ still alive. He could be, too. I just need to find him-“

“Let me be very clear: there is _nothing_ you can do for him.” Duncan’s voice was like a sharpened blade held to her throat and cutting her voice. “He’s been tainted for _three days_ now, unaided. Through your Keeper’s healing arts and your own willpower, you did not die. But Tamlen has _no_ chance. Trust me when I say that he is gone.”

She could not speak. She stopped her pacing and just stared at the human Warden.

Merrill spoke up. “Won’t there at least be a body to claim?”

Duncan sighed, turning to address the smaller elf. “No. The darkspawn will have taken it.”

The small mage blanched. “Taken? Taken it where? What would they do with him?”

“Darkspawn are evil creatures. It’s best to leave it at that. I’m… sorry.” He spoke with great reluctance and regret in his voice.

Maiara didn’t care about his regrets. “Tamlen is out there. He’s sick and alone. You think I will just _abandon_ him?”

“Lethallan,” Merrill intoned softly, grasping her arm with her delicate fingers. “We told the Keeper we would search the ruins. It’s getting late. The clan will move at dusk.”

“Void take them,” she spat angrily, pulling away from her friend. Merrill gasped and she immediately regretted her ire. Tears burned at her eyes and she roughly rubbed at her eyes. “I can’t… he would have _never_ left me.”

“I’m getting the distinct feeling that this Tamlen of yours was more than just a friend,” Nereus said carefully, stepping away from the shattered remains of the mirror.

“Shut up!” Both she and Adoracia had snapped at him together. A look of understanding passed between her and the human girl.

“ _What?_ ” The mage bristled at their verbal attack. “I was only implying-“

“We know what you were _implying_ , mage,” Leif grumbled from behind Maiara. “So shut up and leave the poor girl alone. Let’s get back to the elf camp. They’ll follow on their own. Won’t you girls?”

“We will, I promise.” Merrill assured them, moving a protective arm around Maiara again.

Duncan remained where he was for a moment longer before stepping around the two elven women, Nereus in tow. “We will meet you back at your camp, then. Adora, if you will.”

“She can stay,” Maiara whispered harshly, turning a pleading look to the red haired girl.

“As you wish. Leif; Nereus.” The three men exited through the door one after another.

Maiara was left with Merrill and Adoracia. One had been her friend since she was a child. The other had simply shown her empathy and defended her from her own companion. She needed the feeling of sisterhood between them to keep herself stable right then. She needed _something_. Just some kind of a connection between people.

“Lethallan,” Merrill tried again. “I don’t want to leave Tamlen any more than you do.”

“I know,” she whimpered, looking down at the broken artifact. “We should have never come here.”

Merrill offered her an awkward pat on the shoulder and then walked past her to the mirror. “I agree. Maybe you were right about the mirror, though. Maybe it can be used to find Tamlen somehow when we leave the forest.”

“Should you be touching that?” Adoracia asked warily.

“It’s broken,” Merrill said, unwrapping her scarf and using it to pick up a single shard of glass. “It doesn’t _feel_ dangerous. I’ll take it to the Keeper. If we can use it, she’ll know.”

Maiara nodded wearily. “Good idea. And… wait until Duncan leaves.” She looked to Adoracia. “Please don’t tell him.”

The girl pressed her lips together in a tight line, but assented. “I won’t. I… I’m sorry. About Tamlen.”

The elven warrior smiled sadly and headed for the door. “Me, too.”

* * *

 

They arrived in camp shortly after Duncan and the other recruits. Merrill silently slipped away to pack the rest of her things while Adoracia joined her fellow companions. Maiara searched out the Keeper and found her in deep discussion with Duncan.

The Keeper and the Warden looked up from their conversation. Marethari motioned for Maiara to join them and she did so reluctantly. She could already tell she wasn’t going to like whatever decision they’d reached on a cure for her.

 _Maybe there_ is _no cure._ She thought darkly, moving to stand beside the elder woman. _Maybe I’ll just… fade away into the shadows. Just like Tamlen._

Marethari embraced her. “I’m relieved you have returned. Duncan had me worried for you, da’len.”

She hugged the Keeper tightly before letting go. “I’m sorry for worrying you. I… I had to work some things out.”

The silver haired elf nodded, her sage green eyes clouded with sorrow. “I am sorry to hear about Tamlen.”

“Emma ir abelas.” She looked down at the other woman, wanting her to see the heartbreak in her eyes. _He was my heart. Now he is lost to me._

“Da’len…” Marethari sighed heavily, averting her gaze.

Duncan interrupted their moment. “Your Keeper and I have spoken and we’ve come to an arrangement that concerns you.”

Maiara looked away from the Keeper, focusing on Duncan. “I’m sure you have.”

To his credit, the Warden did not buckle under her glare. “My order is in need of help. _You_ are in need of a cure. Becoming a Grey Warden will cure you of the Blight sickness you carry. When I leave, I hope you will join me. You would make an excellent Grey Warden.”

“The cure is to become a Warden?” She asked skeptically. “How does joining your order cure a sickness? There must be more to it than that. Keeper… is this what you intend for me? Do you believe this shem?”

It was rare for her to use that term for humans. Many Dalish used it as a slur to express their hatred towards the humans that had wronged them.

The Keeper nodded gravely. “Yes, da’len. I do. Your life depends on it.”

Duncan continued his pitch. “The darkspawn taint courses through your veins. That you recovered at all is remarkable. Your Keeper is a very skilled mage, but even her magic would have no effect in time.” He clasped his hands behind his back as he lectured her on her illness. “Eventually, the taint will sicken and kill you. Or worse. The Grey Wardens can prevent that, but it means joining us.”

Regardless of how she felt about Tamlen’s disappearance, Maiara did not want to die. The clan would travel north and leave Ferelden. That would end her search for Tamlen immediately. Not only that, she risked spreading the Blight to the rest of the clan before dying. There was only one logical choice and she had to take it.

“Then I will join you.”

She was surprised when the Warden crossed his arms over his chest and bowed. “I welcome you to the order. It is rare to have a Dalish amongst us, but they have always served with distinction.”

“Thank you… Duncan.” She felt strange for having agreed. She did not know if she would be a good Warden as he believed, but she would try. Being a warrior was in her blood. If she could not remain with her clan to protect them, she would protect them from afar as a Grey Warden.

“I know you’ll do your clan proud, da’len.” Marethari smiled up at her. She hesitated, then removed one of the carved wooden rings from a finger and pressed it into Maiara’s hand. “Take this ring. It is your heritage. It will protect you against the darkness to come.”

Maiara looked over the ring in the dying light. It was carved from willow and it depicted foxes chasing after hares. It was a Keeper’s ring. “I don’t understand…”

Marethari smiled gently. “It belonged to your father. You should speak with Ashalle before you leave.”

The very mention of her father was a shock. The clan had always avoided speaking about her parents, even when she’d directly asked them. She literally knew nothing about them.

“My father was a Keeper?” She breathed, stunned as she looked over the ring again, hoping that it would invoke something within her.

The old woman smiled secretively. “There is much for you to learn before you go, da’len. Pay your respects.”

“I had assumed you would need time to say your goodbyes,” Duncan said with a note of hesitance in his deep voice.

Maiara turned to him, a pained look crossing over her features. “I… I would like to stay for Tamlen’s funeral. And to say my goodbyes.”

The Warden nodded. “We have much ground to cover, but I cannot deny you that. Say your farewells… then we must be off."

“Come then, da’len.” Marethari entwined an arm with hers and led her away from Duncan. “Before the Creators guide you from us, let your clan embrace you one last time.”

* * *

 

While the Keeper spoke to Hahren Paivel about the funeral preparations, Maiara packed her things. She didn’t have much. A few sets of clothes, the armor she wore, and the sword on her back. Everything else had been shared by the clan. She would have to stock up on a few more supplies before leaving camp. Potions, poultices, maybe a few herbs to mix later.

Before resupplying, she sought out Ashalle. The older woman had been like a mother to her. She’d been the one who had brought her to the clan and while the clan raised children as a whole, Ashalle had always looked out for her. She knew she’d been a close friend to her parents. She’d never spoken of them, but she’d still done her best for Maiara.

Maiara loved her dearly and admired her very much. She’d even followed the same path as Ashalle and pledged herself to Elgar’nan, the God of Vengeance. At the moment, she felt particularly in tune with her god of choice. The Blight had corrupted the artifact that had taken Tamlen from her. Now she would fight the Blight itself.

She found Ashalle warming herself by a fire with a few others of the clan. Dusk had not yet taken hold, but the air was growing chill, reminding them that winter was not long past.

The woman she viewed as a mother looked up with relief in her eyes. “By the Creators! It is so good to see you whole and well. I was so worried!”

Smiling warmly, Maiara embraced the elder elf. “Ashalle…” She always smelled so sweet; like blossoms and rosemary. She would miss it.

“All that time you were ill, the Keeper didn’t know if you were going to live or die!” She hugged her tightly, stroking Maiara’s hair affectionately. “I’ve been outside the Keeper’s aravel the whole time. I have never been so relieved as when I heard you would pull through!” She pulled away and looked down at her with worry. “What happened to you? Everyone says Tamlen may be dead…”

She bit her lip and looked away. Of course she hadn’t been told yet. Marethari was only now making the arrangements. “He’s… I don’t know. We tried to find him. He’s just… gone.” Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “The Keeper… she’s preparing funeral rites.”

Ashalle wiped at her tears and pulled her into another hug. “Oh, da’mis. I’m so sorry. I know how much you and the lad cared for each other.” She was rocking her gently in her arms as she spoke. “It was always my hope that you two… well. Let’s not dwell on it.” She sighed. “You must be more careful. Your parents – may they rest in peace – would be horrified to see you take such risks.”

Maiara bit back more of her tears. “Ashalle… the Keeper told me I should ask you about my parents before… before I go.”

The rocking stopped. Ashalle slowly stepped back to look at her, confusion blooming in her hazel eyes. “Maiara… where are you going, da’mis?”

She was chewing on her lip in earnest now. “I’m sick. I… I have to go so it doesn’t spread.”

“But the Keeper… she _cured_ you. She said you would be alright.” The hurt in her voice was palpable. It hurt Maiara just as much to tell her.

“It’s the Blight,” she whispered softly, not wanting anyone else to hear. “Only the Grey Wardens… they’re the only ones with a cure.”

“Oh, my child,” Ashalle sobbed, enfolding her in her arms again. “Sweet da’mis… I’m so sorry.”

Maiara grasped her tightly as the two of them wept. It was the last time they would ever see each other. Becoming a Grey Warden meant abandoning one’s old life. That included everyone in it.

When they’d both let their grief run its course – as much as they could, at any rate – they sat side by side in front of the fire. The others had left them alone when they’d seen the display of misery shared by the two women. It was a small kindness that allowed them their privacy.

“Please,” Maiara murmured faintly. “Tell me about my parents.”

Ashalle gave a nearly imperceptible nod of her head. “What happened to them is a sad tale…”

“I know,” she said without resentment. “I just… I need to know.”

“Very well. If I do not tell you now, you’ll only wonder.” She leaned forward, staring into the flames as she recited the tale. “Your mother was a hunter – one of the finest. And your father was the Keeper before Marethari. He was with the clan for a long time, I’m told. Your mother and I were from another clan and our elders did not approve of the match she and your father made. To avoid the anger of her clan, they had to meet in secret. One day, bandits caught them alone in the forest. Your father was killed, but your mother escaped.”

It was… unexpected, to say the least. She hadn’t anticipated something so dramatic. “Did humans kill my father?”

Ashalle shook her head. “Not just humans. There were elves from the city as well. Those of our kind living with humans do not hold to the old ways." She exhaled heavily and held her hands close to the warmth of the fire. "Your mother held to life long enough to give birth to you... but grief wracked her heart. One night, she… simply walked into the moonlight and never returned. The clan did not take her passing well. I wanted to avoid trouble for you. I took you and sought out your father’s clan to raise you among them.”

Her head was reeling from the revelations. While her father had been killed, her mother had just… _left_ her behind. “She… abandoned me? Just like that?”

The elder woman let out a mournful sigh. “She couldn’t carry on without your father. He was her everything. When I brought you here with that sad tale, the clan decided not to discuss this around you, lest it poison your heart with sadness.”

“I… can see why you didn’t want me to know,” she admitted with only a small amount of bitterness. If she had known, she would have taken up Elgar’nan’s vallaslin for the wrong reason. She would have grown up hating humans and she wouldn’t have trusted someone like Duncan or Adoracia. She was glad that she had not lived with such venom in her soul.

Ashalle gave nod of approval and a proud smile. “Our people have learned to live with much sorrow; it seemed only right that we not dwell on it.” She patted the young woman’s cheek. “You are so strong and brave. You have grown to be a fine woman.”

“Thank you…” She didn’t know what else to say. She finally knew the truth. The knowledge was like a stone in her belly.

“Your mother did leave you a gift; something of your father’s for you to have once you were older. Perhaps the time has come…” Ashalle started rustling through the pouches on her belt.

Maiara couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m leaving. This is the _only_ time.”

“You’re right.” The other woman conceded with a dry chuckle. “I was waiting so long for the ‘right’ time, for you to be grown. But you _are_ grown now, aren’t you?” Smiling, she removed an amulet from one of the pouches she’d been digging through. “This belonged to your father.”

Taking the amulet in hand, she saw that it matched the ring the Keeper had given her. It was made up of hundreds of tiny wooden beads, each intricately carved into the shape of an animal. Deer, hawks, wolves, foxes, and rabbits chased each other across its length.

Ashalle helped her to place the necklace around her throat. There was a steady power about it that made her feel safe. She decided it was nice and smiled when she touched the engraved beads.

“Thank you, Ashalle,” she said, embracing her one last time. “I’ll miss you.”

“Not as much as I’ll miss you, da’mis,” she choked out. Maiara could feel her crying again.

As she waited for the sun to begin its final descent, she held the woman she’d come to think of as a mother and wondered about the fate of the man whom she had hoped would one day be her other half.

Nothing was turning out the way she had hoped.

* * *

 

As dusk fell on the camp, a pyre burned under the pale light of the moons; there was no body to be fed to the flames. The Dalish to not burn the bodies of their dead the way humans do. They bury them and plant a tree to mark their grave. Tamlen left no body behind to honor. All they can offer are words and tradition.

Hahren Paivel addressed the service, a grim look mixed with the vallaslin on his aged face. He took a deep breath and began to speak:

“Swiftly do stars burn a path across the sky, hast’ning to place one last kiss upon your eye.

“Tenderly land enfolds you in slumber, softening the rolling thunder.

“Dagger now sheathed, bow no longer tense. During this, your last hour, only silence.”

When he was finished, the clan began to sing. It was a song that did not often come to pass through their lips, but it was one they held dear to their hearts. It was something they’d managed to dig up from their past and hold onto, even if it was a song for sorrow.

Maiara joined her voice with that of the clan, adding to the symphonious harmony of the other elves. Their combined voices were silver, gold, and everything precious under the stars. Their song was solemn anguish, riddled with sorrow and love for something that could never be found again. It rolled through her heart and mind like a wave, flowing over her like a cool, silver stream; the salt in her tears were just spray from the ocean of emotions that she drifted upon while they sang.

If this was to be the last she saw of her clan - of her _family_ – then she would hold it close like a treasure in her soul.

There was no looking back.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, anyone else find it weird that Marethari's vallaslin changed between Origins and DA2? Merrill's changed, too, but hers was less noticeable and it still has the same basic design. Marethari's is completely different. So I went with the DA2 version since she has a bigger role in that game.
> 
> The elvhen language in Dragon Age is sadly incomplete. I know we learn more every time they add something, but damn. I was mostly relying on the Dragon Age wiki for info, but I've recently found a project put together by a really talented fan. I'll probably be relying on that a lot more now. Hopefully I won't butcher the source too much.
> 
>  
> 
> Translation Notes:  
> Da’len – “little child”  
> Dareth shiral – “Safe journey”/also used to say “farewell”  
> Savhalla – “Salutations”/”Hello” an informal greeting  
> Emma ir abelas – “Now I am filled with sorrow”  
> Da’mis – “little blade”
> 
> Here's a link to the work I mentioned:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3553883/chapters/7825850


	15. Keep it Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duncan takes the recruits down south towards Ostagar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the shortness of the chapter. I just needed something simple. I also may have gotten more stuck on the art for this one. Apparently I like to torture myself.

\------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Draconis 30th

\------------------------

 

 

The march through the Brecilian Forest had been a slow one for Duncan and his recruits. That was to be expected, of course. Night had fallen by the time the Dalish had finished performing their rites for the dead. Maiara had joined them on the edge of the camp when it was over. She’d seemed surprised to see the hound, Lady, with them, but had said nothing about it. Duncan hadn’t been sure about how the Dalish would have reacted to them bringing a massive warhound into their camp, so he’d instructed the mabari to stay put and wait for them. He’d considered taking her with him and Nereus on their return to the cave, but decided against it. She would be fine on her own for a few days, according to Adora. After convincing Maiara to join them, they’d reunited with the dog to find her perfectly fine and very excited to see the return of her mistress.

As they’d moved through the tangled growth of the old forest, Maiara had grit her teeth and continued until the Warden had called on them to stop for the night. She was ill and he didn’t want to push her. Her Keeper’s healing arts had been useful in keeping the taint at bay, but the effects would wear off soon. While he had confidence in Nereus’s magical ability, he knew the young man could not compare to the knowledge and power amassed by the old elven healer.

 _I must get them to Ostagar quickly._ While he was prepared for Maiara to dislike him for leaving her friend behind, he knew she would do well as a Warden. Her Keeper had painted a pretty picture of her abilities as a warrior. She was young, resilient, and had a strong will. The Wardens could use more like her. The sooner they arrived at the old fortress, the sooner she could go through the Joining.

They were finally out of the forest, thankfully, and everyone was moving a lot faster. The West Road was not far and it would make travel even easier for them. After the time that had passed, he no longer expected Arl Howe’s men to be on the lookout on the road to Ostagar. Even if they _did_ come across any such men, they were a much larger group than a small band of highwaymen could deal with.

It was just as well. While he was sure his recruits might even be more than happy to engage lawless fools, he didn’t want to risk sapping their strength. They were running out of time. He would need to put them through the rituals of becoming a Grey Warden immediately. There were so few Wardens in Ferelden. The fact that he’d been able to bring in so many new recruits on such a short schedule was miraculous. He had to admit, he was a little proud of himself.

While he’d always had good luck in charming people into joining the cause, he seemed to have had even better luck with the recruits he’d snagged this last time around. Circumstance had brought him into their lives at dire times, it seemed. He wondered how he managed to have luck bad enough that he appeared to be present for such awful events, yet good enough that he gained something in the end. It seemed to be a constant in his life.

 _I’ve certainly been fortunate._ They were all assets in their own way. Leif was clever and good natured. Nereus was cunning and held great aptitude for gathering power and assuming leadership. Adora was blossoming into her skills and would likely be useful should ay politicking get in the way of the Wardens doing their job; while he believed she was too soft for some things, he didn’t exactly see it as a weakness. Maiara had strength and willpower both that would see her through the hard times ahead. All four of them would bring something unique to the Wardens; if they all survived, of course.

 _It would be a shame; a true waste of such great potential._ He could only hope that his gut feeling proved to be right.

* * *

 

In the days since they’d left the Dalish, Duncan had been pleased to notice the four of them interacting more. It wasn’t always _positive_ interaction, but at least they communicated. They could explore their differences and find common ground. While he doubted any of them would admit to it, they all had a few things in common with each other. He could see it plain as day, but he was an outsider with time for observation.

Leif and Nereus occasionally saw eye-to-eye, but they were prone to bickering over morals. They’d fought beside each other on several occasions now and seemed to mix well while in combat. When it came to discussing personal matters – whether about themselves or others present – they seemed to be on opposite sides of the spectrum.

The young dwarf seemed especially watchful of the women in their small group, particularly Adora. He clearly respected the both of them, but he expressed more worry and sympathy for the human girl. Duncan didn’t think it was because Maiara was an elf, but because she passed as more _together_ in some ways. Not to mention Duncan could easily spot resemblances between the former noblewoman and the casteless dwarf’s sister.

Adora had immediately started bonding with Maiara, faster than she had with anyone else. While Duncan liked to believe he and the girl had come to some sort of reconciliation over the demise of her family, he knew she did not feel close to him. She chatted with both Nereus and Leif from time to time, but it mostly seemed to pass as idle chatter between them. Her conversations with Leif were longer, but they seemed more enquiring with the mage.

It was clear that Maiara held no fondness for the human mage. She was especially short with him and mostly seemed to ignore him when convenient. Upon occasion she spoke with Leif, Duncan, or Adora, but she mostly seemed to keep to herself and avoid small talk. After a day of caution, she particularly seemed to enjoy the company of Lady. He suspected it had something to do with the mabari not asking her any questions.

Nereus seemed to have the least in common with all of them. He avidly tried to spark conversation with everyone, but he was rarely successful in keeping the dialogue going; he seemed to be a little abrasive in comparison to the others. Duncan didn’t mind. He enjoyed the younger man’s company. He was so full of ideas and opinions. Many of them were superficial and some were downright crude, but they were always interesting.

For all of their differences and for the few things they agreed upon, there was at least one thing that all of them cared for just as passionately as any other: family.

Leif loved his sister and viewed the friend he’d left behind as a brother.

Nereus was vague about any talk concerning his family, but it seemed a habit born of caution for his love.

Adora clearly cared above and beyond for her family.

Maiara had an entire clan that she thought of as family and loved dearly.

At least they could all agree on something.

Duncan missed his family, too. The Grey Wardens were his new family, even if they’d started off so far on the wrong page that his life had seemed like it was taking place in a completely different story. Then he’d learned that what he thought would be a fate worse than death had saved him from a life of corruption and loneliness.

* * *

 

It was after nightfall when they reached the West Road. He’d thought about having them stop before that, but he’d hoped instead that if he recalled correctly, they’d have a chance to sleep indoors that night. Duncan’s memories proved to be accurate and he was pleased to see the light from a small cluster of buildings down by the road.

It was more of a waystation than a village. The road was popular enough that many kinds of people traveled it night and day. Life on the road could be tiresome and enough people had thought of that to actually take advantage and set up shop right next to the prevalent roadway. Roadhouses complete with taverns, rooms for rent, and even supply shops could be found scattered across the most well-known junctions of the Imperial Highway and other such roads.

Duncan had spent enough time traveling across Ferelden that he’d come across many such places. He hadn’t been near this one in a year or so, but he’d vaguely recalled the area and had been pleased to lead his recruits to the small sign of civilization.

“Please tell me that’s a tavern.” Nereus was walking beside him and had caught sight of the buildings at about the same time. “Then tell me that’s where we’re sleeping tonight.”

The Warden smiled. “That _is_ a tavern and it is, in fact, our destination.”

Nereus reflected a smile of his own in the darkness. “Excellent. I never thought I’d reach a point in my life where I’d long for a thin mattress and bedbugs.”

They were close enough that they could see there were a few horses in the stables attached to the main building. Some of the windows were open on the first floor of the building; the glow of a fire and unintelligible conversation floated out into the night. A thick stream of smoke billowed out from a chimney and soon the undeniable scent of cooked food reached their group.

His stomach rumbled faintly at the thought of food. It seemed they’d reached their destination just in time.

* * *

 

Upon entering the tavern, Duncan was pleased to see there were only about six people scattered throughout the tables and bar. There was a single woman serving drinks on the floor while another catered to things behind the barrier of the bar counter. There were a couple of doors that lead to other parts of the establishment, as well as a rickety looking stairwell that led upstairs.

With his recruits following behind him, Duncan headed to the bar. He saw a few of the men look up from their drinks and conversation, but they all immediately went back to minding their own business. He supposed they must make a striking view, the five of them armed to the teeth with a warhound in tow. Good. It was best if strangers thought they were dangerous.

The woman behind the counter was watching his approach with wary eyes. Her dark eyes flicked to the emblem on his armor. Duncan smiled and noticed that she kept one hand under the table. Just in case, he assumed. She seemed like a woman capable of taking care of her business.

“Good evening,” he greeted her, leaning against the bar as he did so. “I was wondering if you had three rooms available. My companions and I are on our way down south. We’ve been on the road for some time.”

The woman relaxed and bobbed her head. “Aye, we’ve got some rooms. Would you be liking meals with that?”

“Most certainly.” He was famished. They could all use a nice sit down, too. “In fact, I think food is more important than the rooms at the moment. Would you mind if we take a table?”

“Not at all. Let’s see, that’ll be… fifty bits for the rooms and meals. If you want something to drink, we’ve got ale and wine. Ale is two bits; the wine is fifteen.”

Duncan nodded and pulled out one of his coin purses. He handed her five silvers. “Thank you kindly,” he said with a smile. “I trust this will cover everything we may need.”

The woman’s eyes had widened considerably and then narrowed suspiciously. She toyed with the coins, biting each one in turn. Apparently accepting them as genuine, she pocketed them. “Certainly. If there’s _anything_ you need ser, let me know.” She aimed a surprisingly sultry gaze at him before turning her attention to the serving girl. “Lyda!”

The girl jumped to attention, scurrying between the tables to get to the bar. “Yes’m?”

The proprietor nodded to Duncan and the others. “You take care of these folks. Get ‘em some food, then show ‘em three of the best rooms. Anything they need, you hear?”

Lyda nodded quickly, her blonde hair bouncing around her shoulders. “Yes! Of course. Right this way, please.”

She seated them further from the other patrons at a long table in a corner next to the stairs. There were simple wooden benches on either said. Duncan took the side with the wall to his back. Maiara and Leif slid in on either side of him, leaving Adora and Nereus to take up the other side. Lady crawled under the table, bumping against Duncan’s legs before finding a place to lie down.

“Drinks for all of you?” Lyda asked, her eyes scanning over each of their faces in turn.

“No.” Maiara said curtly with a look of distaste.

Adora shook her head. “None for me, thank you.”

“I’ll stick with water, thanks.” Leif said, lifting his canteen with a polite smile.

Duncan was surprised that all three of them had turned down drinks. He chuckled lightly and smiled at the young woman. “Ale for me, thank you.”

“Wine,” Nereus added, leaning forward and aiming a charming smile up at the girl. “Please.”

Blushing and nodding her head, Lyda spun and headed towards the bar.

It was nice to finally relax. Duncan felt like he hadn’t sat at a table in years. Sure, it had only been a couple weeks, but it felt longer. He wished he could fully relax; just take off the armor and kick back in some comfortable clothes. There was no way that was happening. He wouldn’t trust the locks on any of the doors there.

While he was waiting for his drink, he tilted his head back against the wall and closed his eyes with a low sigh. He’d find _some_ way to relax, at least.

“It’ll be so nice to be inside for once,” Nereus was saying, obviously trying to get some kind of conversation going. “I don’t know about you, but I could go without sleeping in the dirt for _at least_ one night.”

“The dirt isn’t so bad,” Leif replied. “It’s the rocks I don’t like. And the bugs. And the cold. Why is it so damned cold on the surface anyway?”

He heard Adora let out a noise close to a laugh. “It isn’t the _entire_ surface. It’s mostly just Ferelden. It’s warm other places. Like in Orlais, Antiva, Tevinter…” She exhaled softly. “It’ll warm up in a few months.”

“Will it now? That would be nice. I can’t say I’m too fond of the cold, myself.” Nereus said amiably. “I may have gotten used to a few perks in the Circle. For being a creepy, dark tower in the middle of a lake, it was actually quite warm most of the time. The benefits of magic, I imagine.”

“Didn’t you say you used to live outside the Circle? When you were a child?” Adora always seemed curious about Nereus’s life outside of the Circle, Duncan noticed.

He could practically feel the guard that the mage put up in response to the questions. “You have a good memory, Lady Adora. Indeed, I did. I lived in Kirkwall for a time, with my mother and her betrothed.”

He’d never heard this story. Duncan opened his eyes and leaned forward in his seat, resting his arms on the table. Just in time, too. Drinks and food were beginning to arrive. Lyda held two large mugs in one hand and was balancing a tray with bread in the other hand. She set the bread down, then handed the drinks to Duncan and Nereus.

“I’m sorry for the wait,” she said quickly, sliding the tray out from under the bread. It looked warm and freshly baked. “I’ll have the rest of your food out soon. I thought you might like something to hold you over.”

Duncan smiled cordially and took one of the bread rolls. “There’s no rush.”

“Thank you, Lyda. That was very thoughtful.” Nereus contently drew his mug forward and smiled serenely. He seemed thankful for the distraction.

Maiara made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat and Duncan hid his amused grin by taking a swig of ale. It wasn’t what one might consider _good_ but it wasn’t bad. It was drinkable.

The serving girl either ignored the elf or didn’t hear her. She beamed, bowed her head, and walked away with an extra sway to her hips.

“What?” Nereus asked innocently as he received a nasty look from the elf on the opposite end of the table. “Is it wrong for me to be nice?”

“You aren’t being _nice_.” She said bluntly, shaking her head and taking a piece of bread herself. She sniffed at it.

Duncan took a bite of his bread first. He knew the Dalish didn’t have the resources to make bread themselves. They never stayed anywhere long enough to build up the proper ovens. He was sure they had something similar, perhaps some kind of flat breads, but nothing like the dinner rolls and large loaves that he was used to in taverns.

It was good. Much better than the ale. He wondered if the owner and Lyda were related and if it was a family establishment. He wouldn’t be surprised. The two women looked similar enough to be mother and daughter.

“I _am_ being nice,” the mage countered firmly. “This is how _humans_ are polite. You should take notes.”

Duncan sighed. He didn’t want race to come up. Nereus didn’t strike him as one of the humans who hated elves, but he didn’t want to test it. He heavily set his drink down; not enough to draw attention from outside their table, but enough to make the four young recruits look at him.

“That’s enough,” he said lowly, keeping his voice solid. “No one has to say or do anything they don’t want to. Likewise, if Nereus feels the need to dally with others, that is his business. Wardens do not judge such trifling matters.”

They were silently watching him, waiting to see if that was all. Nereus looked down into his drink and then took a sip.

“This wine isn’t half bad, you know,” the mage casually informed them.

For a moment, Duncan was tempted to single him out. He _knew_ Nereus was listening and that he understood. The others might not see it that way, though. They might see it as insubordination or worse, that Duncan was indulging him. That wasn’t his way, though. They would have to learn how to read each other the way he had. He’d already figured them out. It was their turn.

Leaning back in his seat, he calmly picked his mug up from the table and took another pull. “Perhaps I should have gone with the wine, then?”

The tension between him and Nereus dispelled. The younger man relaxed. “Probably. It’s not as good as what we had at the Circle, but it’s probably better than whatever passes for ale out here.”

His admission must have been worthy of interest, as Adora perked up. “You made wine in the Circle?”

He nodded, swirling the dark liquid around in his cup. “Yes and no. Someone must have mentioned the suspicious lack of wine in the past, because there’s always been some available over dinner. Apparently the Tranquil are handy with more than just enchantments and staring slack jawed at every passerby.”

“I wouldn’t have suspected the Tranquil to know their way around wine.” Duncan confessed. The stunted mages didn’t seem to have any emotions or passion for anything. He doubted they even drank the alcohol they produced.

Nereus shrugged. “No doubt some former noble complained about the lack of it and ordered the Tranquil to remedy the situation. I’m sure they’ve had plenty of recommendations ever since to keep the wine flowing.”

Adora was frowning. “I must be missing something,” she said, reaching for a roll. “What is a ‘Tranquil’?”

The mage beside her spared her a pitying look before taking a large gulp of wine. “Trust me when I say you _really_ don’t want to know, Lady Adora.”

Duncan sat rigidly in his seat. “Nereus,” he said quietly, drawing the man’s attention from his wine. “I suggest you not refer to your fellow recruit in such a way. You never know who might be listening. The danger may not have passed.”

The brunette winced. He looked like he was about to look over his shoulder, but he resisted the urge, slumping in his seat instead. “I apologize. I will be more careful in the future.”

Leif snorted. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”

Nereus’s pale blue eyes narrowed to snakelike slits. “What _ever_ could you mean by that?”

“I mean,” the dwarf all but growled around the food in his mouth. “Drinking makes you an idiot.”

“I don’t think he needs the drink for that.” Maiara certainly didn’t hold back.

Duncan was beginning to rethink the sleeping arrangements. Maiara and Adora would be fine in a room of their own. He’d been thinking of putting Leif and Nereus together, but that wasn’t looking like a good idea at the moment.

 _For once, I’d have liked to have a room to myself_. Why did he even bother getting his hopes up? Maybe he’d room with Nereus. It didn’t seem fair to let Leif have a room all to himself, though. After all, he’d started the argument this time. He sighed. _I seem to be doing a lot of that tonight._ He would just let Leif have the room to himself. He’d already put himself on Nereus’s side once tonight. Now it was time to extend the same act to his other recruit.

They were still arguing. Adora was trying to defuse the situation, quietly informing them that it was fine and that there was no reason for anyone to attack him.

“We’re all on the same side,” she reminded them softly, locking eyes with each of them in turn. “What is the use in bickering over such trivialities? It is exhausting and serves no purpose.”

They were saved from further conversation by the arrival of food. Lyda brought more bread, a thick stew with meat and vegetables, and even a few meat pies. Everyone ceased their fighting, thanked the young woman, and focused instead on eating.

Duncan’s appetite was as voracious as always. He was amused to note that Adora and Nereus ate almost as much as he did. Leif ate a decent amount – he really seemed to enjoy the bread – and Maiara ate the least. He supposed it all had to do with their upbringing. Nereus had said he’d eaten well at the Circle. Obviously Adora had eaten very well in Highever. It made sense that the two that ate the least were the nonhumans in their group. Leif had grown up poor in the streets of Orzammar. It wouldn’t surprise the Warden to find that the young man had gone without food from time to time just so his sister or mother could eat. As for Maiara, the Dalish were not exactly the feasting type. He could imagine that they ate very little for the most part, since there were so many mouths to feed and they were constantly on the move.

The stew was _good_. That was nice. All of the food was good, actually. He’d have to make a note to visit the little rest stop again in the future. Maybe after the Blight was dealt with. He could bring Alistair and the other Wardens and they could celebrate with a delicious meal.

It was a good idea. He’d definitely do that. 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No color for this one. Yet. I'll eventually color it and put it on my tumblr if anyone is interested in it.  
> http://brokenmirrorsneverlie.tumblr.com/


	16. Halfway There

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group leaves the waystation behind and continue to Ostagar.

\-----------------------

9:30 Dragon, Draconis 31st

\-----------------------

 

 

There was someone making noise outside.

The shutters on the window were closed, but there was a gap between the old boards that let a streak of white sunlight into the darkened room. It happened to stretch from the window, across the uneven floorboards, up onto the small bed, and right into Leif’s closed eyes.

The noise woke him up and he opened his eyes only to be immediately blinded by that _one_ blasted ray of sun shining in. He groaned in irritation, immediately rolling over to avoid the hateful light. He was sore from weeks of sleeping on uncomfortable ground. The bed had been a great help in giving him a full night’s rest, but now it was awakening all of the sore points in his body. He didn’t want to get up, but he also wanted to find the source of the noise.

For a moment, he just laid in bed with his eyes closed, listening. He could hear birds – _those_ had been a pleasant discovery when he’d first come to the surface – and he could hear activity downstairs in the tavern. People were talking, laughing, and moving around. Then there was something else outside. Something… nice.

Ignoring the creaks and protests from his tired body, Leif lumbered out of bed and shuffled over to the window. He knew it was going to hurt his eyes to open the shutters, but he could swear he heard someone singing outside. Not like the singing he’d heard in taverns and on the streets; although those songs tended to be filthy limericks more than actual songs and the singers tended to be drunks and completely off key.

Whoever was singing wasn’t singing the common tongue he knew. It was musical, almost like they weren’t saying real words. It was also a _woman_ singing.

Rica had learned how to sing when Beraht had started training her up to be a noble hunter. She’d practice in their shitty little hovel until her throat was sore. Singing, playing instruments, dressing fancy, and wearing makeup had all been a part of her training. After a while, once Beraht had told her it was good enough, she’d stopped singing. Every once in a while Leif had heard her humming to herself when she’d do her hair or when they were going to sleep. She always sounded so sad.

The woman singing outside sounded sad, too.

Bracing himself against the blinding light, he opened the shutters with squinted eyes. He opened the window as he rapidly blinked his eyes in an effort to adjust them faster. A cool breeze bustled into the room, chilling him in his underclothes. His eyes watered a little against the cold and the sun, but he could at least see.

He had a good view of the small lot of buildings that made up the waystation. There was what looked like a workshop of some kind nearby that may have also doubled as some kind of trade center. The stables were on the other side of the building he was in and there was a decent sized plot full of plants within view of his room. There was a well near the fenced off yard of plants and there was a woman by the well.

For a moment he wasn’t sure if he was seeing correctly. The woman singing was _Maiara_. The elf had barely said anything to him since they’d picked her up in the forest. Last night had been the most talkative he’d seen her since their adventure in the ruins and the woman was damned aggressive. He could appreciate that since her ire wasn’t aimed at him, but it was still surprising. She was just so tiny. It was easy to forget she was the one swinging the big sword around in battle.

Now she was outside, singing softly enough that normally he might not be able to hear it from how high up he was. The wind was good to him, though, and it carried the melodic sound of her voice up to the window. Whatever she was singing about was awful sad. He supposed it must have something to do with the man she’d lost in the ruins.

She was sitting on the ground next to the well. It looked like she’d splashed some of the water on herself before getting dressed. Her great sword was leaning against the stone frame of the wall nearby and she was in the process of fitting her greaves to the leggings she wore under her armor.

The song halted with a stuttering cough. The elf bowed her head and her dark hair fell around her like a curtain. Her body shuddered with the strength of the coughs. Leif had heard coughs like that before from the dusters who took jobs cleaning smoke vents. His mother had started coughing like that before Beraht brought them into the fold. Maiara sounded bad, almost like she was choking.

For a moment, he considered climbing out the window. He didn’t know how he’d help exactly. Maybe slap her on the back a few times like he’d done for his mother as a kid.

Then she stopped. Shivering again, she flipped her hair out of the way then rolled over to spit onto the ground. Even from the distance he was at Leif could see she spit something dark and heavy onto the ground.

 _How sick_ is _she?_   He’d heard Duncan say she had the Blight sickness. He’d never seen someone with it before.

She was still for a moment and he wondered if he should still be watching her. He’d only wanted to see who was singing. Now he was spying on one of his companions. He started closing the window just as he saw her look up directly at him. He froze, feeling like he’d been caught in the act of something awful. Then he slowly closed the window and retreated into the room.

He needed to get dressed and now he felt awkward.

“Great, now she’s gonna think I’m some kinda creeper or somethin’…” He grumbled to himself, pulling his armor on piece by piece over his underclothes.

The room he was in had two small beds shoved into the cramped space, but only one had been occupied last night. Duncan had given him the one room to himself, probably to keep him and Nereus from snarking at each other all night. He’d felt a little bad since he knew Duncan was supposed to get a break from all of them, but the man wouldn’t back down. So Leif had gotten the room all to himself. He’d tossed his armor onto the spare bed and dropped into a dead sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Now he was wondering how the two human men had fared in the other room. He doubted Nereus would have gone out of his way to sass the Warden, but he wouldn’t put it past the petulant mage to complain about not getting his own private room.

He really wasn’t looking forward to his whining. At first he’d thought the guy was likable. He’d been kind to him, taken him to kill spiders, and given him all of the loot they’d acquired on their trip to the caverns. He’d been fine when they first went to the castle in Highever. Shit, he’d even checked on him the night that scum nobleman had attacked.

Of course Leif had already dispatched the men who’d burst into his room, but he’d been pleasantly surprised when Nereus had come running to make sure he was still alive. That was the second time they’d fought together, but this time it was against other humans. As far as he knew, neither of them had killed humans before.

Leif’s first time killing anyone was when he and Leske’d escaped the carta. It had started out bad, but he’d kind of enjoyed killing Beraht. He’d enjoyed killing the men at the castle, too. The Couslands were good people as far as he knew and they were betrayed by people they’d trusted. That didn’t sit right with him, so he didn’t mind taking out the bastards that had turned on them.

Nereus though… he didn’t seem bothered at all. In fact, he’d taunted some of the men he’d taken down. At first it didn’t bug him, but he’d lost sight of the mage more than a few times during their short stay at the castle. When they’d left, his pack was a lot fuller than it had been before. They’d both looted quite a few of the bodies that night, but that didn’t account for a lot of what the mage had.

Then his attitude had started grating on him. It was weird. His words were polite, but his voice wasn’t. And sometimes it was the other way around. There was something about him that just started rubbing him the wrong way. He’d be fine most of the day and then casually insulting out of nowhere. It was aggravating and Leif didn’t like it.

So he’d started snapping at him. At first Nereus had been shocked and played the victim. Sometimes he snapped right back, though, and Leif could see the venom leaking out of his façade.

He didn’t trust the mage. They were going to be companions in the order and to begin with that had been just fine by him. Now he didn’t know.

He sighed and finished buckling the straps on his armor. Duncan saw something in all of them, didn’t he? He’d already doubted the Warden more than once by this point, though. Sometimes he felt like the man was his hero and other times he saw him as callous and calculating. He wanted him to be the former, but it was difficult when he remembered what had happened to Adora’s family.

It wasn’t just her now, either. It was the thing with Maiara and the mirror. He knew the Wardens were desperate for recruits, but it didn’t feel right the way Duncan went about it sometimes.

Although now he realized Duncan was right about Maiara being sick. He hadn’t really noticed it at first. Sure, she’d seem a little tired now and again, but he was tired, too. Plus, she was wearing all that armor _and_ lugging a big ass sword around.

Now that he’d heard how bad that cough was…

 _Shit_ , he thought, pausing on his way out the door. _What’m I gonna say if she says something?_ He felt like a jerk for watching her like that.

Turning the knob and opening the door, he stepped out into the hall. _Guess I’ll have to deal with it_.

* * *

 

Duncan, Adora, and the dog were already downstairs. He didn’t see Maiara or Nereus. The former was probably still outside, but he figured Nereus must still be asleep. He wasn’t exactly an early riser, he’d noticed.

He waved to them on his way down the stairs and received a nod from the Warden. Adora had her hands cupped around a steaming mug with her head bowed over it. He saw her dog bump her head against her arm and the redhead looked up. She smiled at him as he sat down across from her.

“Good morning, Leif,” she said pleasantly, her gray eyes no longer accompanied by dark circles. He’d gotten used to her looking tired after they’d left Highever. This was the first time he’d seen her look rested since the day he’d met her.

“Mornin’,” he replied, noticing there were plates of food on the table. Five of them. He took a chance and looked under the table to see a plate that had clearly been licked clean. “How long has breakfast been here?”

She’d taken a sip from her mug; swallowing the hot drink down, she said, “Oh, not long. Maybe… ten minutes?”

Her hair was different. She’d been wearing it in the same style since that dark night. Now it was wet, clean, and tied back into a simple braid.

“Huh, okay.” He almost started eating with his hands, then remembered the spoon. They hadn’t really had a lot of spoons in Dust Town. They sure made things less messy.

There were plates with the same rolls from last night paired with sliced meats, some cheese, and fruit. There were even five bowls of creamy porridge. He snagged one of the bowls and topped it off with some meat. He liked cheese, but he was still adjusting to the texture. Fruit was good, too, but sometimes the ones he tried were too sweet or sour. He wasn’t used to all of the variety on the surface yet.

“Did you sleep well, Leif?” Duncan asked, already mostly done with his meal. There were a few crumbs from the bread in his beard, but he quickly noticed and brushed them off.

He nodded around a spoonful of porridge. It was a little bland, but the meat made it better. “Yup. Slept like a rock. You?”

He’d let them talk while he ate. Their dinner had been nice and filling, but he was hungry again. He’d eaten so much that he hadn’t expected his appetite to spring up when he’d gotten out of bed, but it had. He hoped his sister was eating as well as he was.

“Quite well, thank you. It was nice to get the chance to sleep indoors for a change.” Duncan smiled, his warm eyes crinkling at the corners. “We likely won’t be getting another chance like this for some time. So enjoy it.”

That was too bad. It _had_ been nice, but he knew he couldn’t expect everything to be nice where they were going. He didn’t know anything about Ostagar or the Korcari Wilds, but that’s where Duncan said they were going. Ostagar was a fortress; that much he’d been told. The Korcari Wilds were the end of Ferelden or something. He didn’t know what a swamp was, but it sounded unpleasant.

“How ‘bout you, Adora?” He asked the girl. She’d been picking lightly at the fruits and cheeses in between drinks from her mug. He wondered what she had. It must be good.

“Oh,” she said, setting the drink down. “It was nice. I haven’t slept so soundly in… quite some time.”

Her eyes were downcast and she looked very lost. Something twinged in his chest. He figured this must’ve been her first night without nightmares. He’d heard her crying in her sleep from time to time. He’d asked her about it eventually and she’d told him about nightmares. Dwarves didn’t dream. They didn’t get nightmares, either. He was grateful for that when he heard about how awful they could be.

“So, what’s in your cup there?” He asked in an effort to distract her.

Her eyelashes fluttered a few times and she looked to the mug. “It’s tea. It’s very plain, I’m afraid, but it’s something. I suppose trade must be good out this way.”

“Can’t say I know anything about tea,” he said, nonplussed. “It’s not like wine or anything, is it?”

She smiled lightly and shook her head. “No, not at all. It’s… well, I suppose it’s like herbs and water? It’s usually served hot. Sometimes we would sweeten it with sugar or honey. It can be bitter at times. It’s very invigorating, though. It can really wake you up. Would you like to try some?”

The mug was offered to him and he gently took it in his hands. It wasn’t steaming any more, but the ceramic cup was warm in his hands. He brought it to his lips and took a tentative sip. He grimaced. It _was_ bitter.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s for me,” he said, handing the drink back to the girl. He shoved more porridge in his mouth to get rid of the taste.

A low chuckle sounded behind him. “You _could_ say it’s not your cup of tea.”

Duncan let out a short snort of laughter and Adora hid her mouth behind her hand as she giggled. Leif didn’t get the joke, but he didn’t have to turn around to recognize Nereus’s voice. The mage was quiet; Leif hadn’t even heard him approach. He sat beside him, already armored and ready to go. He leaned his staff against the table and started picking at the food on the table.

“Don’t worry, my friend, you’ll soon come to understand many of our endearing colloquialisms,” the slender man was saying as he piled a little bit of everything onto a plate. “Believe me, I am _very_ informative. You have but to ask.”

Leif frowned. He wasn’t sure if the other man was making fun of him or not. He looked between Adora and Duncan and neither of them seemed annoyed by the mage’s behavior, so he figured he wasn’t being mocked, at the least.

“I don’t know what a colloke-a-whatever is, for starters,” he said, biting into a piece of sausage. He really liked the food on the surface. Not a single thing had tasted like dirt. Except maybe the tea.

Nereus smiled obligingly. “I apologize. It is essentially a form of slang. We may say something that has another meaning, but it's a common saying that everyone tends to understand.” He waved his hand toward the serving girl from the night before and she brought a mug over to him. “When I said it wasn’t your cup of tea, I didn’t mean it in a literal sense. It’s a pun, you see. A joke that is a play on words. Saying something isn’t one’s ‘cup of tea’ simply means that it is not to their liking. Thank you, my dear.”

The serving girl smiled solicitously, blushing as she turned away. Nereus’s gaze had lingered slightly before he attended to his cup. Leif could smell the wine this time.

“Right,” he said, ignoring the urge to comment on the drink. He wasn’t a fan of alcohol. “I get it now.”

The mage smiled. “Excellent. I’m glad I could be of assistance.”

 _Smarmy bugger_. He wanted to believe he’d been trying to be helpful, but he just seemed so damned smug on top of it. So what if he talked like some kind of shaper? That didn’t make him any better than anyone else. Leif knew he wasn’t going to understand every bit of human culture, but the mage didn’t have to go out of his way to rub it in his face.

He was glowering, he knew. It was morning and he didn’t want to start another fight. Nereus was already beginning to pick up the slack on chatting anyway. It was all small talk, but it was enough to keep the tension at bay.

Leif decided to just focus on his food. He didn’t want to be the cause of a gloomy day.

* * *

 

Maiara never joined them for breakfast.

Adora went outside to speak with her, but the other woman didn’t want to waste time. Duncan had graciously asked the innkeeper if they could take some food on the road and she’d cheerfully insisted that they do so. Leif supposed it probably had something to do with the extra money the Warden had given her the night before.

So they’d double checked their equipment and headed out. Maiara was walking quickly at first, keeping pace just behind Duncan and Nereus. Adora and Leif were just behind her, walking in companionable silence. It wasn’t long before the elf’s pace began to dawdle. Eventually she’d slowed enough that she was walking beside Leif.

He did his best to keep his eyes trained on the road and avoid looking at the women on either side of him. It was a small hope that Maiara wouldn’t ask him about his staring earlier.

Then again, what is hope if it isn’t meant to be crushed in some way?

“Durgen’len,” she spoke lowly, but she wasn’t so tall that he couldn’t hear her. “Did you say anything?”

His lips thinned into a frown. “Leif.”

He looked up in time to see her ears twitch slightly. It was… weird. She let out a puff of breath. “Leif… did you say anything?”

“Nah,” he said casually, looking away again. “None of my business. I shouldn’t go runnin’ my mouth off over your problem.”

“It’s not a problem!” She hissed sharply.

He saw her eyeing the two men ahead of them. He made a face and looked from her to Adora. The redhead was pretending not to listen.

He shrugged carelessly. “So what if it is? Duncan already told you. We already know.”

Her brown eyes darkened as she concentrated on the road ahead. “I can’t… I won’t let it determine my fate. I will become a Grey Warden and I will live.”

Leif eyed her curiously. “Admitting you’re sick won’t make it worse. Just like pretending you’re not won’t make it better. I’ve seen people push themselves when they get that cough goin’. _Pretending_ made it worse.” He sighed. “Sometimes being strong isn’t the answer.”

Maiara said nothing more. She stared straight ahead, back rigid, shoulders straight, and steps sure. She had a chokehold on her self-control, Leif could tell, but it was beginning to slip. He could hear the labored breathing she tried to contain in her chest. When he looked up at her, he could see the sweat that caused her charcoal black hair to stick to her skin.

 _Duncan_ _has to know he’s putting her through too much_. He was glaring at the human men that held a quick, even pace ahead of them. Leif could keep up with them if he wanted to. He’d had no problems before. There was no way they’d been walking that fast before.

Instead of catching up with them, he stayed with Adora and Maiara. Adora didn’t seem like she was having an easy time or a hard time. She was keeping up, but there was some small amount of effort involved. She was definitely having an easier time of it than her elven counterpart. _Or is it elvish?_ He didn’t know.

They were coming up to the stairway that gave travelers access to the road. It was a massive marvel of engineering. Leif could hardly believe humans were the architects behind the high roads that stretched across the land. They were beyond impressive. He’d always heard that whatever humans built was nothing compared to what the dwarves could do. The West Road was a part of what they called the Imperial Highway. It was falling apart in some of the places they’d passed, but it was still quite a sight. It held up well for how long it had gone without maintenance.

Duncan and Nereus were already ascending the stone steps, their stride never slackening. He and Adora were moving slightly faster than Maiara now. They were just a few steps up from her when he heard her stumble and curse.

The sound of the elf hitting the stone caused him to whip around in alarm. Apparently she’d attracted everyone’s attention. Adora was already kneeling by her side.

“Are you alright?” She asked worriedly. The girl tried to help her stand, but she was warded off.

“I’m fine! I just… my foot slipped.” Her dark cheeks were flushed in embarrassment. “I’m fine.”

It wasn’t until then that Leif noticed she wasn’t wearing shoes. _Has she been barefoot the whole time?_ He hadn’t thought to look at her feet before. The leggings she wore under her armor wrapped around the heels and arches of her feet, but that was the only protection she had below the greaves on her shins.

“Don’t your feet hurt?” He asked dully, unsure of what else to say. It was just so bizarre.

He couldn’t imagine going barefoot in Orzammar. He’d stepped on broken glass once as a kid. _That_ had been fun. His mother had scolded him for a week and screeched at him to put his shoes on almost every time she saw him after. There had been a few times when he’d slept with his shoes on for fear his mother would burst into the room and demand he be wearing them.

Maiara looked bewildered for a second. “What? No, of course not.” She shrugged Adora off one more time and shakily pulled herself up from the steps. “Elves don’t have soft feet like humans. We walk in freezing snow, blazing sands, and the lush grass of the forest with ease. We are as much a part of this land as it is a part of us.”

“Huh.” He never would have known. Elves really were different from humans. It wasn’t just their ears or their eyes or their sharp features. At first he’d thought they’d looked about the same, maybe a little smaller. The longer he’d spent in that camp of theirs though, the longer he’d had to compare them to the humans he’d seen.

“Maiara.” Duncan was standing above them, just steps away from the road. Nereus was behind him, leaning against a column and watching them with pale blue eyes.

He turned to look at the woman in question. She stared up at Duncan with belligerent eyes before taking the steps up to meet him. Leif and Adora followed behind.

“I’m fine,” Maiara was saying to Duncan, her brown eyes offering him a challenge. “I just slipped on the stone.”

The Warden was looking down at her with compassion. “It’s alright. You’ve been exhausting yourself every day. I’m only surprised you didn’t collapse sooner.”

Her eyes flashed angrily. “I am not _weak_. I am a warrior of the Dalish. I will see this through.”

“I do not doubt that,” Duncan said softly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “However, I _would_ like to see you make it without us having to resort to carrying you the rest of the way. If you do not take care of yourself, you _will_ slow us down.”

Leif almost expected her to lash out; the way her fists were curled tightly and held at her sides showed just how much her control was slipping.

Instead of acting out, she slowly turned away from Duncan. “Ir abelas.” Her head was bowed and her eyes closed. “I am… impatient. I do not wish to be a burden.”

“We will all take it slow.” Duncan promised, turning to look each of them in the eyes; except for Maiara, who stood staring down at her feet. “Now that we are on the West Road, we will cover greater distances with less effort. There is a risk that bandits may also take advantage of this route, but I have every bit of confidence that we are up to the task of dealing with a few ruffians.”

“I’d like to see someone challenge us,” Nereus said airily as ice danced between his fingers. “For practice.”

Leif rolled his eyes and was pleased to see Duncan do the same.

“We will not search out a fight. We are on a schedule, after all.” Duncan looked back to Leif and Adora. “If anyone feels that they are in need of a break, we will do our best to accommodate. I won’t be dragging half dead recruits down to Ostagar. Is that understood?”

There was a mumbled agreement between the four of them. The dog barked cheerfully.

Duncan nodded. “Good. Now, if Maiara is ready-“

“I am.” She turned to face him again. Leif saw her hands were no longer balled up.

The Warden studied her carefully. “After you’ve had some food. I brought some from the inn for you.”

Her body had tensed and her mouth had opened, as if to argue. She took a breath and closed her mouth before nodding. “Alright.” She held her hand out for the food.

Sliding the pack from his back, Duncan dug around and removed a small cloth sack. He handed it to Maiara and she quickly unwrapped it to reveal bread rolls, cheese, and fruit.

“I can’t eat all of this,” she said quietly.

Duncan shrugged. “Eat at least one roll. Anything else after that is up to you. I don’t mind holding onto the rest.”

The stubborn elf sighed heavily before selecting a roll and a piece of fruit. She handed the rest to Duncan and he replaced it in his bag.

“We’ll continue in ten,” Duncan said, rolling his shoulders and adjusting the straps on his backpack. “Rest for now. We’ve got a long road ahead of us.”

They were all standing in the road now. It offered a beautiful view of the river and the land he’d learned was the Bannorn. Ferelden really was a beautiful country. There was nothing like it underground that could compare. It was so colorful and everything was so fresh and clean. Even the things others thought were _dirty_ were clean compared to Dust Town. He wondered if he lived there long enough, if he bathed in the rivers that ran their lazy courses under the sun, if he would finally wash all of the dust from his skin.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came out a LOT quicker than the last one. It was just easier, I guess.  
> I'll be going back and forth between the different recruits from now on. I don't know if I'll do anything from the perspective of other characters like companions, but if I can get something decent out of one of them I will.  
> Also, sorry if there are any weird typos. I'm getting lazy about reading stuff over.


	17. Self-Destruct Personality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A group of bandits provides the group with some practice working together.

\------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 9th

\------------------------

 

 

The Imperial Highway was certainly a gift. The Tevinters had built it to better manage their massive empire, but they were gone and still it remained. Now it was a help to those who were once oppressed by the powerful magisters of old. It was a nice thought. Sadly, it also helped those who enjoyed the oppression. There were only so many places on the highway that gave those on the ground below access to the high road. Those areas could be used as chokepoints for thugs to exact tolls from the unwary.

 _Too bad for them_. Nereus didn’t intend on being a victim. Not anymore.

Not too far ahead, the road curved. They’d passed the last set of steps some time back, so there was no easy way down to the ground below the road. He could see people ahead, but they weren’t walked towards them or away from them. They were waiting. It didn’t take a genius to guess they would be armed and possibly have traps set, too.

“How are we going to do this?” He asked coolly, keeping his eyes trained on the road ahead. They still had time. There was no point in turning back, so their pace never wavered.

Duncan sighed. “We will attempt to persuade them, first. If that does not work, we will do what we must.”

There was a snort of disapproval from behind them. Nereus looked over his should and saw three displeased faces. On this, he agreed with the others. Bandits were not to be tolerated. Especially at the level the men ahead seemed to be staging their operation. They looked like they’d done well for themselves. They even had a wagon blocking the road.

“Is this how humans deal with criminals?” Maiara sneered, stomping up to Nereus and Duncan. “They would prey on the innocent and you would give them a chance to run?”

“I assure you, Maiara, this is _not_ how I would deal with such cretins.” Nereus kept his voice neutral and airy in an attempt to disable her accusations. “However, Duncan _is_ our commander. If he tells us we must try negotiation first, then it is our duty to at least make the attempt.”

His words seemed to have no effect. Her dark brown eyes were slanted into a very potent glare, though. He could appreciate that.

“While I appreciate the sentiment, Nereus, I would prefer to hear you all speak your minds.” Duncan motioned for them to pause before getting any closer. He clearly didn’t want to risk their plans being overheard. The bandits could wait.

“We kill them,” Maiara said flatly, straightening her posture. “They are highwaymen. They have killed, threatened, and injured innocents. They do not deserve a chance.”

Nereus shot her an approving look. “I happen to agree. They will only hurt others in our stead. We would be condoning their actions.”

“Fair enough,” Duncan acknowledged, nodding to the two of them. He turned to Leif and Adora. “Anything to add?”

Leif looked uncomfortable. His brow was wrinkled and his mouth twisted into a frown as he stared at the bandits further up the road. “I don’t…” He paused, then sighed and tried again. “If they’re really hurting people, we should know. They might not be. Maybe they’re just… scaring ‘em, I dunno.”

“They’re still stealing,” Adora offered softly. “Threatening people isn’t right just because you don’t physically harm them.”

The hound barked… agreeably? Nereus couldn’t tell.

“Some of ‘em might not have a choice…” The dwarf grumbled.

“You spent time in the carta, Leif,” Nereus said evenly. “I am aware that many in such a position have no choice. Humans, however, have a choice. They choose this life more often than it chooses them.”

Duncan was silent for a moment. He was watching the men now, too. Nereus spared them a glance and judged that they were getting anxious. Why has their prey stopped? Are they going to turn around? Will they put up a fight?

 _They must wonder a great many things_. He intended on giving them an answer soon. They would certainly put up a fight.

“It seems the majority is in favor of violence. Let’s make this quick.” Duncan said shortly. He started marching forward again. “Leif, you’ve experience with traps?”

“Yeah,” the dwarf nodded in confirmation, jogging a little to keep up with the Warden’s quickened pace.

“Good. When we approach, Nereus will ‘attempt’ to negotiate.” This earned a huff of annoyance from the elf. Duncan ignored it. “It will not go in their favor and they’ll turn on us quickly. Keep your head low and disarm any traps they may have set in the surrounding area.”

“Got it.” The blonde adopted a more leisurely gait and dropped to the back of their little group.

“So _I’m_ the arbitrator of this little exchange? You give me the best jobs.” Of course he didn’t mind. He liked talking and he was good at it. Everything would rely on his handling of the situation.

They were close enough to count the enemy now. It was a fairly large operation. There were about a dozen or so men out in the open. He expected there were more hidden by the wagon and the crates of stolen goods lining the road.

“I’m sure you can handle it,” Duncan said wryly as he continued to outline their plan. “Adora, you keep your distance. When Nereus concludes his discussion, you do your best to take out any other distance fighters.”

“Is he going to give a signal?” The quiet noblewoman asked.

Nereus grinned, tightening the grip on his staff. He could feel the mana pooling in his hands, itching to be set free by his design. “You could say that.”

“Your tone is worrisome.” Maiara said in an undertone.

The mage shrugged carelessly. “It should be. For _them_.”

She grunted in response. “Let me guess my part. I wait for this signal and go charging in?”

“You and I, yes.” Duncan confirmed with a nod. He offered her a mild smile. “I admit, I am eager to see your techniques myself. Your Keeper had nothing but praise for your abilities.”

 _Is she… blushing?_ Nereus was shocked. For a second he’d thought it impossible, but there she was, cheeks flushed as she quickly looked away. There hadn’t been an ounce of irritation in her eyes to imply she was displeased.

 _Stranger things, I suppose._ It was interesting. He’d have to remember. The elf was a woman of few words and – apparently – an untapped well of tangled emotions. She was a difficult person to navigate. The others were a lot simpler.

The dog barked again. This seemed directed at Duncan. He laughed warmly. “I apologize, Lady. You will keep any stragglers from getting close to Adora. Agreed?”

She let out a cheerful woof. The mage was beginning to think the dog had as much personality as any of them.

He could hear the men talking amongst themselves, their voices jovial and interspersed with barks of laughter. Many of them seemed to be clustered into separate groups, disguised as casual conversation. Others were clearly muscle. Three men stood in the center of the road, facing them as they approached. The one in the center was shorter than his wingmen by a good foot, but he seemed to be the one in charge.

“Greetings, good sir!” Nereus called pleasantly, walking slightly ahead of his group. “My goodness, this is quite the caravan you have here. Has your pony run off?”

The man smiled easily, revealing one gold-capped canine.

 _Disgusting_. It was absolutely without charm. _Whoever told him it was a good idea should have been flogged._

“You know how they get. Damn things are spooked by a cough.” He was clearly good at playing along.

Nereus shook his head in sympathy. “That I do. Why, my stallion is always getting such wild thoughts into his head. Do you know how many times I’ve had to hunt him across the Bannorn? A purebred Fereldan Forder, I’m told. Oh, he’s _perfectly_ tamed, absolutely broken in! So they said.”

The man laughed approvingly. “Aye, I’ll bet. How much did you pay for that beast of yours?”

“Far too much, if you ask me.” The mage huffed, stamping his staff against the stone. “Did you need some help finding that pony of yours? I’m a wicked tracker, I assure you.”

Something dark flickered through the man’s dark eyes as he smiled. “That’s not necessary young man. At the moment, we’re graciously accepting donations. That pony’s long gone by now. I’m gonna have to send my men to the nearest village to get a new mount to pull our cart.”

He nodded his head a few times, a thoughtful expression crafted into place. “Hm, yes. That makes sense. You wouldn’t want to carry any of these crates to sell. That’s very clever of you. After all, you never know what sorts of brigands are running amok these days.”

A slow smile spread across the bandit’s lips. “As you say. So, my friend, care to make a donation? After all, the sooner we’re gone, the safer we’ll be.”

Nereus shrugged and looked to his companions. He masked his surprise over Leif’s absence. “Do we have anything to spare? We’re in a bit of a hurry, I’m afraid.”

“We’re out of luck, ourselves.” Duncan confirmed with a pleasant smile. “Nothing to spare.”

The man shook his head and looked to his companions. “That’s a real shame. I’m sure we can work out some kind of deal to get you gentlemen out of here. Perhaps these young ladies could help us out?”

Some of the men chuckled darkly, their hands already toying with their weapons. The amiable mage looked thoughtful. “Hm… that’s something to consider.” He looked over his shoulder and was amused to see the look of disgust on Maiara’s face. Adora was watching placidly, her gray eyes dull in the afternoon light. He winked at her before turning back to the man, his hand held out before him. “I’m glad we could work something out.”

The man grinned, his gold tooth flashing gaudily in the sun. He took his hand, giving it a firm shake. “I’m glad we could come to an-“ There was a sharp intake of breath. He roughly pulled his hand away and stumbled backwards with a cry of pain. “What the fuck did you _do_?!”

He shrugged. “Let’s just say… you’re about to be blown away. Or apart. Which do you prefer?”

The men who’d formerly been at his side stepped forward, weapons drawn as their leader pushed past them. Nereus took a step back before slashing his staff out in front of them; an arc of ice bloomed up from the motion and icicles shot up into the chests of the attacking men. Arrows embedded themselves in their necks, finishing the job.

“Oh, you’ll have to do _so_ much better than that.” He chuckled lightly, sweeping his piercing gaze over the rest of the men as they scrambled into defensive positions.

“ _Mage!_ ” A cry of alarm went up in the back. One of the closer groups began to charge. The air whistled with arrows flying from both sides. One man was taken out from behind, his head bashed open, and when he fell, Leif appeared. Maiara and Duncan had already charged around the half-circle of ice that held two bodies. With a vicious cry, the elf swung her heavy sword into three men, slicing clean through one and bringing the other two flying back into crates.

Nereus calmly walked around the ice as he observed the chaos. Maiara and Duncan seemed to have most of the attention. Leif was flitting in and out of sight, doing damage where he could. The occasional arrow was seen sticking out of a limb here, an eye there. There were still a few archers in the back that he could see. One projectile nearly hit him. He brought his barrier up just in time and the arrow sizzled before bouncing off and clattering harmlessly to the ground.

 _Time to deal with the threat in the back._ He’d take out the archers if Adora couldn’t.

He carefully maneuvered through the fray, occasionally striking out to bash someone with his staff. Glancing back to check on Adora, he saw Lady dancing between two men with swords, snapping at them any time they tried to get past. Thinking she could use some help, he aimed his staff at one man as he tightly clenched his fist, trapping the man in a crushing prison, then continued on his way. He could hear the hound growling and snarling viciously as she took the opportunity to deal with the leftover assailant.

Now he saw the lead man was stumbling back into a small cluster of archers behind the wagon. As the man crashed into one of his cohorts, he suddenly clutched his head with both hands and fell to the ground. A few men backed away, but others were watching fearfully.

Nereus quickly went back the way he’d come, reentering the fight just as he heard the bone cracking explosion. The wet sound of meat hitting the stone was an ugly sound, but impressive all the same. He looked back and saw blood had fountained up over the top of the wagon. One of the archers stumbled out of the back, dazed and slathered in blood, chunks of red, and flecks of other dark colors. A splintered white bone was sticking out of his side.

 _I did that…_ Nereus thought in awe. He waved his staff and sent a sharp bolt of energy forward. The man collapsed.

A sword deflected off his barrier and he turned with wide eyes to see Maiara beheading the man who’d failed to penetrate his barrier. He wondered vaguely if she’d intentionally waited until he’d failed. He smiled at her and she growled, whipping away to deal with another bandit.

He watched her hit the man so hard he went flying over a crumbling section of the wall. Her foe let out one short scream before he hit the ground with a heavy thud.

“What do they _feed_ you elves?” He shook his head and then waved his barrier away. That had been the last of them as far as he could tell.

The elf in question whipped her head around to glare at him. Her long dark hair was lashing about in the wind like black sails, causing her stance to look both attractive as fuck and strangely terrifying. He smiled weakly, unsure if she would throw him over the edge if he said anything else to her.

“Right then.” He turned to find Duncan leaning against the wall opposite to Maiara. He didn’t look pleased, but he also didn’t look angry. He’d take his chances. “Sooo… shall we see what they’ve got in these crates?”

He heard Leif laugh. He looked around, trying to spot the little rogue. He’d been an absolute terror for the bandits, running around, evading their eyes and weapons both before he bashed them with his mace or sliced at the backs of their knees. Every time Nereus saw him fight, he was faster and stealthier.

 _Very impressive. He only needed to get out of the shadows to blossom under the sun._ It was ironic, considering how apt he was at slipping into said shadows.

The dwarf was watching him, too, he noticed. Nereus tilted his head towards the nearest crate. “You _know_ you’re interested.”

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, both of them with guarded eyes and neutral faces. Then Leif grinned and walked up to the nearest crate to pry it open. “You’re sodding right! Let’s see…“

“I… need a moment of rest.” Adora said as she approached, clutching the elven bow in her small hands.

“A fair response,” Duncan said, motioning for her to sit. “It’s been over a week since our last battle. Now Ostagar is within reach. The fighting will not end for some time. Our time together has been a brief respite in this war against the Blight. Even this,” he gestured to the broken and bloodied bodies that lay littered across the ground, “this was nothing compared to what will come.”

Nereus and Leif had paused in their excitement over looting the crates. Duncan’s words relayed what they’d already been told time and again. It was a Blight. They were going to become Grey Wardens soon, burdened with an ancient and honorable task. Fight the darkspawn. Kill the archdemon. End the Blight.

 _The last Warden to end a Blight died_. Everyone knew the story of Garahel, the famously handsome elven Warden who’d united Thedas against the threat of the Fourth Blight. He’d been beloved by so many even before he’d saved the world. He was the hero expected to save them all or die trying. Which, he did.

Nereus didn’t intend on dying, even for a righteous cause to save the world. If somehow it came down to that… His eyes flicked over the forms of his companions.

Leif, so brave and selfless. Adora, so beautiful and kind. Maiara, passionate and strong. And of course, Duncan, their leader. He was brave, for sure. Also cunning, compassionate, insightful and an incredible fighter. Any of them could be the heroes bards would sing of for centuries, praising their valiant struggle against the tides of darkness. Any one of them could be the martyr who saved the world by ending their life.

He wondered if _he_ could be that person. He certainly didn’t want to be.

“Holy shit,” Leif gasped beside him. He’d opened the box. Nereus quickly leaned over to look inside the crate.

“That’s…” He had no words.

Leif took one of the items out and held it up for the others to see.

“Are those knickers?”

* * *

 

The crates had been filled with clothes. Dancing slippers, leggings, skirts, pantaloons, tunics, capes, and more.

And yes, knickers.

Nereus was torn. On one hand, he felt cheated. They’d killed the bandits, so he’d expected to get their stuff. That was how things worked, after all. On the other hand, there were knickers.

He brought a hand up to stifle his laugh and disguise it as a cough. It didn’t work too well.

“Are you _still_ laughing?” Adora asked incredulously.

They’d left the point of the ambush behind a few hours ago. He and Leif had looted the bodies and searched the wagon for more valuables. It seemed the first victim had been a merchant carrying clothing and accessories. He must have originally been taking the West Road to the extension of the Imperial Highway that eventually led to Orlais. Clearly he didn’t make it too far.

It didn’t seem the bandits had gotten too far before the pony ran off, leaving them stranded with the cart. They hadn’t found much coin on them, so they probably hadn’t been running their little operation there for too long. Their group must have seemed like a welcome surprise… before things blew up in their face.

Nereus laughed again. He heard Maiara tsk behind him, but at least Adora seemed curious.

“Really?” She asked, shaking her head with a small smile.

“Yes!” He exclaimed cheerfully. “Oh, come _on_! _Knickers!_ Did you see any you liked? I saw a few that would look absolutely _ravishing_ on you.”

The redhead rolled her eyes and gave him a friendly shove. “You can _keep_ them. I’m assuming you did.”

He winked at her and smiled winsomely. “Wait and see!”

She laughed this time. It was sweet and high, just like the first time he’d met her. The sound tamed his humor somewhat and he enjoyed the moment. It reminded him of-

“Did you really have a purebred Fereldan Forder?” She asked suddenly, her freckled cheeks pink from laughing.

 _Also from the sun, I’ll bet._ Most of them had blushing sunburns on their noses and cheeks. He honestly couldn’t tell with Maiara, though. She’s probably say something about elves and nature again.

Nereus grinned. “I _did_ in fact! Well, he was my father’s, actually. I was too small to ride him by myself.”

“So you never chased a horse all over the Bannorn?” She sounded amused rather than disappointed.

 _Not_ exactly. He shook his head and looked off into the distance. The sun was a lot lower in the sky; they only had another five hours of daylight left. He wondered if they’d make it to Ostagar by then.

“Nereus,” she said softly, placing a hand on the arm that hung at his side.

He realized he hadn’t actually said anything. _Why is she touching me_? It was unexpected and very… she looked worried, but her eyes had curiosity reflected in them.

“My lady?” He wondered what she was thinking of, looking at him with eyes like that.

“The horse belonged to your father? I thought you said the man who raised you wasn’t-“

“He wasn’t.” He clarified quickly, wishing to end the discussion. _Here I go, saying too much because a pretty girl thinks I’m funny and interesting._ That never ended well. If he didn’t say something quickly, he suspected she’d ask more questions. “As I said, my mother was disowned and sent away. She came to Ferelden to find my father. She did.”

“So you weren’t taken to the Circle when your magic was discovered?” She just didn’t give up.

He sighed. “That… is correct. I was living in Kirkwall when my powers manifested. My mother’s betrothed was… _displeased_. He wasn’t heartless, though. They kept the affair private, within the family. When my mother was sent away, I was with her.” He smiled bitterly and his hand clenched the heartwood staff he carried. “They were kind enough to let us escape before the templars found out. They still cared, in a way. Not enough to keep us, but enough to see that I would not be put into Kirkwall’s Circle of Magi.”

“Is that Circle dangerous?” She asked softly, her arm now linked with his.

Nereus shook his head. “Most Circles are dangerous. Kirkwall’s is… it’s a death sentence. If you don’t die there, you’ll wish you had.”

They’d had mages and templars both from Kirkwall. The former tended to be apostates that made it all the way to Ferelden before being caught. Sometimes, they _wanted_ to be caught… as long as they weren’t taken back to Kirkwall. Some of the templars had been… _wrong_. They’d done _things_ in Kirkwall. Things that no one should ever do. As soon as Greagoir had found out, he’d had them tossed out of the Tower on their tin asses. Those were just the ones he knew about, though. The ones that weren’t careful and quiet. They knew how to go unnoticed; unseen until it was too late for the mages they targeted.

“I’m glad you’re in Ferelden,” Adora said gently, her arm still intertwined with his. “I mean… don’t get me wrong. You’re kind of an ass.” He laughed and she smiled. “You’re dodgy, too, which I don’t get. But you’re… you’re not _bad_. You want what’s right. In the end.”

“How do you know?” He asked whimsically. “I could be an abomination – a mage possessed by a _demon_ , for those who don’t know-” He paused for effect and grinned when he heard Leif’s grumbled complaint. “Aren’t you afraid of magic, Lady Adora?”

She was quiet as they walked together, arm-in-arm down the ancient Imperial Highway. The pair of them must be quite a sight. Her with that vibrant red hair, the delicate curves, and her radiant steel armor. Then himself; tall with ash brown hair, large blue eyes, and surprisingly roguish armor. He quite liked it. Whoever she’d had choose it for him had a good eye.

_I can only imagine how ridiculously attractive we must look as a pair!_

“I’m not scared of magic,” she said at last, flashing her stormy gray eyes up at him. “It can do _terrifying_ things. Nereus… you made a man _explode_. By shaking his hand!”

He chuckled. “Ah, yes. I’ve wanted to try that one. Reading about it isn’t quite the same. It’s very… _messy_.”

She rolled her eyes. “I take it back. You worry me.”

“He never saw it coming! Can you blame me? He was practically _bursting_ at the seams to set his men on us.” He grinned cannily. He’d been trying to get another pun out.

Adora groaned and Lady whined. “Maker’s breath, you…” She shook her head. “You’re absurd.”

He nodded in agreement. “That’s one word for it. I prefer ‘irrationally charming.’”

“Look, my _point_ is,” she said in an attempt to get back on track. “You use magic that is positively ghastly… but I trust you not to use it for the wrong reasons.”

 _Why?_ Should he ask that? He didn’t know. He had to ask. “What makes you think you can trust me?”

 _No one else seems to_. Did they think he didn’t notice? He did. And he hadn’t cared. Now that this sweet young woman was saying she _did_ … he was beginning to wonder if he _should_ care.

“At… during the, the raid,” her quiet voice was shaking. He pulled the arm she’d captured tighter against his side, drawing her closer, too. Her footing stuttered and evened out. She leaned against him. “You saved Ser Gilmore. Instead of following us to safety. You stayed to help someone you didn’t know when the arl’s men could have broken down the door and killed you. And I _know_ … I know that if you could have, you would have saved Da-” she was crying and choked back a sob. Her dog whined again, but the sound was different from before. “My father. You would have saved him.”

There was a lot he could do with magic. He could light a simple fire, but he couldn’t cast fireballs. He was good with ice; if someone wanted it to snow inside, he could do that. He could also freeze a man solid so that he shattered into a splintered meatsicle if you hit him hard enough. He could even turn a man into a walking bomb. All of that he could do. But he was no healer. He could close a simple wound, like he’d done for Jowan and for the knight. Nereus could heal simple wounds. He couldn’t fix what had been damaged _inside_ though. Not unless it was close to the surface.

Her father had been badly wounded. He hadn’t been close enough to see, but Duncan had told him enough before they’d joined the others in the pantry. Teyrn Cousland would die of his wounds before the arl’s men could reach him. Even if Nereus had been at full strength, he’d be lucky to close at least half of the visible wounds; the teyrn would still die.

“Do you believe that?” He intoned softly.

She didn’t even hesitate. “Yes. I don’t know… I don’t know if it was possible. It probably wasn’t. But I believe if you’d had the power, you would have done it.”

 _Power_. That’s what it always came down to. _If I had enough power, I could do anything._ He could protect the things that mattered. Deal out justice to those who would harm him and the people he cared for.

 _Who do I have to care for now?_ Jowan had betrayed him and was very likely dead. His mother was dead. His father… What remained of his immediate family was beyond his reach.

His mother had told him about her cousin that lived somewhere in Ferelden. Apparently she’d had a similar situation. Apparently Amell women weren’t content to marry who they were told and stay in blighted Kirkwall. Maybe when his stint with the Grey Wardens was dealt with he could track them down. Try to take back at least one part of his life.

 _But for now…_ He glanced down at the young woman gripping his arm and sniffling. She reminded him of Thalia. She’d been so soft and gentle, easy to trust the wrong people. He wouldn’t let anything happen to this one. Even if he was one of the wrong people he worried about.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't originally going to have the crates full of clothes, but it was honestly the first thing that came to mind because of Leif's and Nereus's reactions. So I rolled with it.  
> It ended up with a kind of weird drawing, but it makes me laugh.  
> I'll color it eventually and post it on my tumblr. You can find my tumblr in my profile if you're interested.


	18. Wish You Were Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grey Warden recruits arrive at Ostagar.

\------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 9th

\------------------------

 

 

Dusk had begun to settle in as they approached the ruins of Ostagar. The sinking sun cast long violet shadows and burning red light across the clouds from beyond the Frostbacks, causing the sky to look as if it was splitting open in agony. Darkness was on its way and the Imperial Highway was cold and dark. The flickering remains of enchanted crystals sparkled out of carved recesses in the stone walls of the road, but it was rarely enough to see by. There were dark clouds billowing about overhead, obstructing the dying remains of the sunlight and blocking the two moons and their numerous starry companions.

Nereus was lighting the way with a spell. He’d conjured a glowing orb of light and set it to light the path ahead of them. That way they could see any damaged parts of the road before it was too late.

Lady had barked excitedly and run ahead to chase the pulsing light. When Adora had asked him about it, he’d called it a wisp and explained that it was perfectly harmless. The mabari snapped at it a few times and it passed through her with no ill effect, as promised. The light weaved back and forth as it moved, keeping the hound entertained as they went.

“It’s not quite a spirit,” he elucidated, taking up the now familiar manner of scholarly speech. “Spirits tend to have free will. A wisp is more like a thought given form. I, the caster, have created the thought with a miniscule flex of will to give it shape.”

“And the shape is… light?” Adoracia asked, watching the glowing orb as it drifted over the time battered stones ahead of their group. It was almost hypnotizing in a way; it was so graceful and eye catching.

The mage nodded with a pleased smile. “Indeed! I simply _think_ ‘we need light’, summon the mana from within, and… there it is. Of course some minor knowledge of spellcraft is required of such a feat, but it is a simple one, regardless.”

“I have heard tales of such… _simple_ lights.” Maiara said with a note of something akin to fear in her voice. “They have been called will ‘o wisps. They have been spotted in the wild parts of the world. A light to guide your way; perhaps it is a fellow traveler like yourself. The light is always near, so close that you may indeed catch up with the one who bears it. You follow, entranced, as the wisp leads you deeper into its otherworldly realm… never to be seen again.”

As the normally silent elf told her tale, Adora kept her eyes trained on the light in front of them. It _was_ leading them to the Wilds. Ostagar was on the very edge of the haunted forest. Even if it _was_ a wisp formed from Nereus’s own will, the story was true in its own way.

 _We might never be seen again_ , she realized. The fortress would be home to great battles. Who could say whether any of them might survive further encounters against darkspawn? They’d only fought a few stragglers in the forest. This is where the Grey Wardens had brought their army and the king’s. They wouldn’t be fighting stragglers.

A smooth laugh broke into her dark thoughts.

“Don’t you fret, Lady Maiara,” Nereus was saying derisively. “If I’m leading us all to our doom, we’ll be sure to see it coming at us.”

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it like that,” Adoracia countered, trying to stop the fight before it could start. The two of them couldn’t seem to get along for even a moment. “It was just a story. She was sharing it with us, that’s all. Right?”

She looked back at Maiara with imploring eyes. _Please don’t start something_. She knew the mage had a caustic personality at times, but they needed to work together; not constantly try to bite each other’s heads off.

The other woman stared back at her apathetically. For being so small, she sure had an intimidating look about her. Instead of arguing, though, she sighed and looked away.

“Yes. That is what I meant. It was merely reflection, not an accusation.” Her tone was genuine, even if her words came out a little stilted.

Before Nereus could open his mouth, Adora pinched his side. He yelped and she said, “He accepts your clarification and apologizes for the mistake he made.”

She didn’t miss the amused smile that Maiara gave her before she faced ahead again. _Good_. Nereus was rubbing his side and looking down at her with mock hurt. She shrugged. “You’re not a people person, are you?”

“I _can_ be when I’m not constantly being accused of harboring evil aspirations in my spare time.” While his voice was light and pleasant in response, there was a darker edge laced into his blithe words. “Tell me, sweet Adora, what have I done that is so wrong? Have I not fought valiantly? Have I not provided my aid and skills where they need be applied?”

He sounded like he was trying to prove some kind of point without explicitly stating what it was. There was also something… lacking in his questions. It was strange.

She sighed. “It isn’t that. We all know and appreciate the efforts you’ve put into our time together. It’s just… you _say_ things sometimes, Nereus. Things that aren’t right. I suppose I’m used to it in a way. Maybe it’s something I’ve adjusted to after so much time around other nobles.” She didn’t want to say it was a _human_ thing, after all. She knew the others were listening. This conversation was for them as much as it was for Nereus. “My point is, you should have more care with your words. Do you think you won’t have any problems with the senior Wardens? You are clearly a great asset. No one will deny that. But that doesn’t mean they’ll want to deal with some upstart sassy mage.”

Her last comment issued some kind of choking laugh. “Did you… did you just call me _sassy_?”

She blushed for some reason and looked determinedly ahead. “I did. You _are_.”

Duncan was leading the way behind Lady and the wisp. He called back over his shoulder. “It’s true!”

Nereus scoffed. “Well!”

Duncan’s inclusion must have been the “go ahead” signal for Leif and Maiara. They seemed to feel much more comfortable with speaking their minds after the Warden had added his two cents.

“You’re a know-it-all.”

“Unsensitive-”

Nereus coughed and objected with a startled whine in his throat. “That’s ‘ _insensitive’_!”

“Whatever! Don’t know what to shut your sodding-”

He was interrupted by Lady barking sharply.

Adoracia waved a hand back at Leif and Maiara. “Oookay! I think he gets it!” She made a face and shook her head before shooting an apologetic look up at the mage. He was grinning and when he saw her looking, he winked. She smiled, relieved. “We _all_ get it! He’s a jerk!”

There was murmured agreement from the two behind them.

“I’d _prefer_ the term- _hey!_ ” He complained again when she pinched him. “You have _got_ to stop that! You’re getting too handsy, my lady. At this rate we’ll be newlyweds by midnight!”

She laughed and gave him a light shove. “Nereus Amell, I’m afraid you’ll just have to keep dreaming. You know I’ll settle for nothing less than a prince at this point.”

He grinned, his pale blue eyes somehow reflecting light from the wisp that led the way in the dark. “A kingdom for you? I suppose it can be arranged.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re absurd.” She knew he was just teasing. All of it was in a way. Maiara and Leif might see him a little better now, she hoped. They needed to work together. 

* * *

 

 

They were coming up to a gateway framed by a massive stone archway. There were guards posted on either side of the gate with torches lighting their metal frames. They nodded to Duncan and allowed their group to pass into the fortress.

There were more torches lining the stone walkway that had been consumed by moss and weeds over time. A pale stone ramp rose up to the right where the entrance to another section of the fortress was blocked by wooden barriers and flanked by guards. Another ramp dropped to the left where Adoracia could see the shadowy forms of more stone arches in the dark.

Looking ahead, she saw the light of the wisp reflecting sparkles of golden light around the entryway to the fortress. Several figures were marching towards them from out of the darkness ahead. It looked at first like a small company of guards, but for the one leading the way. The one centered in the lead was a man of gold.

“Ho there, Duncan!” A friendly voice called from the group of men as they approached.

Not wanting to go any further alone, Lady woofed cheerfully at the men and dutifully returned to Adoracia’s side.

Nereus waved his hand and the wisp leapt into the air between the newcomers and their own group. It slowly ascended as the gap between them closed and it cast a bright, silvery light down on them like a miniature moon.

Adora gasped. She recognized the golden man who was aiming a broad, handsome smile at Duncan.

“King Cailan!” Duncan sounded as surprised as she felt. “I didn’t expect-”

“A royal welcome?” The king finished, clasping Duncan’s hand in his own as he welcomed him. “I was beginning to worry you’d miss all the fun!”

Duncan bowed his head respectfully. “Not if I could help it, your Majesty.”

King Cailan laughed and signaled for his guards to step back. “Then I’ll have the mighty Duncan at my side in battle after all! Glorious!” He and Duncan were standing face to face, but the king looked over his shoulder with curious golden-brown eyes. “The other Wardens told me you’ve found not one, but several promising recruits. I should hope so after the time you’ve been away. I take it these are the ones spoken of?”

The Warden nodded and shifted to stand beside the king as he gestured for the recruits to line up. “Allow me to introduce you, your Majesty.”

The golden king shook his head and stepped forward, recognition dawning in his eyes. “No need, Duncan.” He stopped in front of Adora and she froze under his scrutinizing gaze. “You are Bryce’s youngest, are you not? I don’t think we’ve ever actually met.”

They hadn’t ever spoken, it was true. She’d been quite young when he and the queen had wed. She’d gone with her family to the wedding, in fact. It had been a truly magnificent affair. The Theirin bloodline was notoriously attractive and the young king had been as radiant as the sun that day. His new queen, Anora Mac Tir, was just as beautiful and perfectly suited to him with her light blonde hair, pale skin, and cool blue eyes. That had been the first time she’d seen the king.

Years later she would return with her family, mostly to visit their estate, but upon occasion she would see the king speaking with her father. They’d never been formally introduced, but he’d known of her and her brother both.

Adoracia remembered that Fergus was supposed to meet with the king directly upon arriving to Ostagar. Faith and despair tangled in her chest as she willed herself to speak. She had to know.

“Yes, your Majesty.” She managed at last. Worry had tightened his brow when she spoke. “My name is Adoracia Bellona Cousland. I bring urgent news from Highever.”

“Is it about your father?” King Cailan asked anxiously. He was right in front of her and he boldly reached for her hands, startlingly her and drawing her closer. “Your brother arrived on time and in good health, my lady. He’d said your father would be delayed by no more than a few days. It’s been well over a week now. He has been concerned about him.”

His comforting touch combined with his concern was surprising. She stared up into his kind eyes and tried to find the right words. Her mother had adored the young king. She’d said he was a good man. Smart enough to let his wife take the reins and brave enough to fight beside his men. Foolhardy, too, she’d said; but a man of good nature and intent.

She looked down at her hands cradled in the golden armor gauntlets he wore. “He’s… he’s not coming.” She took a shallow breath to steady her voice. It had been a few days since she’d cried and she was trying to stop. “They’re dead. My _family_. They died when our castle was taken.”

The king’s lips formed shapes without sound as he took the news. “Dead? What do you mean?” He looked back to Duncan. “Duncan, do you know anything about this?”

The Warden’s shoulders drooped and he set a grave face. “It is as she says, your Majesty. Teyrn Cousland and his wife are dead, as well as Fergus Cousland’s wife and son. Arl Howe has shown himself a traitor and overtaken Highever Castle.”

“Lady Landra,” Adora added quietly, drawing the king’s attention back to her. “Bann Loren’s wife and his son Dairren were visiting my mother. Howe was killing _everyone_. He would not have spared them.”

“Had we not escaped, he would have killed us and told you any story he wished.” Duncan confirmed, moving to stand with his recruits once more.

The king looked torn by the news. He gently released Adora’s hands and slowly paced before them. “I… can scarcely believe it! How could he think he would get _away_ with such treachery?!” He growled angrily, clearly taking the betrayal hard. He whirled back to face Adora, his long golden hair flaring out behind him and shimmering brilliantly in the light cast from the wisp. Once more, he took her hands in his and drew her close, close enough that she could smell his sweat mingled with the scented herbs in his armor. “As soon as we are done here, I will turn my army north and bring Howe to justice. You have my word, my lady.”

Adoracia nervously licked her lips. He was very… passionate. “What kind of justice?” She needed to hear how he would die.

He stared into her eyes, looking every bit the confident king he was said to be. “He will hang. I know that will not bring your family back, but Howe will _not_ profit from this.”

“Thank you, your Majesty,” she breathed softly, her heart hammering in her chest. The thought of vengeance… she _needed_ it. The grief had held her too long. The thought of Howe, the man who had taken her _life_ from her, hanging from the gallows, throat swollen and face bloated as his legs twitched, only to find no purchase…

The king pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. She shivered and he carefully stepped away.

“No doubt you wish to see your brother.” He said, sympathy evident in his voice. “Unfortunately, he and his men are scouting in the Wilds.”

Adora nodded numbly and held her hands to her chest. “I see. I… I am not eager to tell him, your Majesty. Oren, his son… he was only eight.” She tried to even her breathing and keep the tears at bay. “Do you know when he will return?”

He sighed, shrugging the golden plate that adorned his shoulders. “I do not envy your fate, my lady. I apologize, for I cannot predict when he will return. You will see him again once the battle is over; I am certain.”

“Thank you, your Majesty. I pray you are right.” It would have to be enough. As much as she wanted to see her brother, she feared the meeting just as much. _How can I tell him I have failed him?_

“I regret that I can do no more for you, Lady Cousland.” King Cailan stared down at her, remorse etched in every feature. “All I can suggest is that you vent your grief against the darkspawn for the time being.”

Her heart sank as she remembered the duty forced upon her by her father’s dying plea. All she could do was nod and look away.

Duncan took the opportunity of her silence to step in. “Your Majesty, may I introduce my other recruits?” The king nodded for him to continue. “Leif Brosca hails from Orzammar. He was the champion of one of the sacred Provings held by the nobility in honor of their ancestors. He also managed to fight his way through a criminal organization after being held prisoner. He is incredibly accomplished and a skilled fighter.”

The king nodded appreciatively. “Those are incredible feats! It’s good to see one of the honorable stout folk outside of Orzammar! I admit it is rare that I meet a dwarf who isn’t a merchant these days.”

Leif looked mildly uncomfortable with the attention. “Uh… yeah. Well, I wouldn’t’ve made it out alive without my friend Leske. I didn’t… I didn’t fight the whole carta by myself.”

“Sounds like there’s a story behind that.” King Cailan said with a polite smile. “I’ve always wanted to learn more. Perhaps you could enlighten me sometime?”

“Sure, if you like.” The dwarf replied with a shrug.

Adoracia couldn’t help but wince at his casual response. Of course she knew he wasn’t used to dealing with nobility on such a grand scale, but he’d at least _tried_ when he’d met _her_.

Instead of taking offense, the king laughed. “I do! I’ll make sure to have the _finest_ dwarven brews brought up from the cellars… after we’ve dealt with the Blight, of course.”

“Yeah, that may be kind of important.” Leif grumbled to himself, clearly unsure of how to handle the situation.

“Indeed it is!” King Cailan agreed, chuckling to himself as he moved to stand before Nereus. Before Duncan could make the introduction, he smiled and said, “Might I know your name?”

Nereus smiled cordially. “I highly doubt it, but anything is possible.”

She thought her head was going to explode. Adoracia _knew_ that Nereus was versed in proper greetings, yet here he was playing games.

 _He must be doing this on purpose. This is payback for earlier, isn’t it?_ Her mother would have had a heart attack if she’d ever behaved that way in front of the king.

Still, the king was a man easily taken by humor. He laughed jovially and shared a pleased smile with his friend. “You’ve got yourself a lively one, Duncan. And here I was beginning to think the Wardens were all stodgy priests!”

“Your Majesty, I _assure_ you I am the furthest from a priest you could be.” Nereus said, aiming his most charming smile at the golden haired man before him. “Nereus Amell. You _may_ be surprised to see I am in fact a mage. Quite powerful, I assure you.”

King Cailan grinned and looked from Nereus to the wisp as he spoke. “I may have some insight into your abilities. You are, after all, the only one carrying a staff.”

The mage gasped playfully. “So I _am_! And here I was hoping my disguise was cleverer than that. I’m not even wearing a dress.”

“Am I to understand you hail from the Circle of Magi, then?” The king asked around another round of pleasant laughter. “I trust you have some spells to help us in the coming battle?”

“Indeed I do; on both accounts.” Nereus assured him, pride edging into his smooth voice. “I have an official ring and everything. Oh, _and_ I can make people explode.”

Adoracia almost fainted. She could see Duncan shaking his head from behind the king. If she wasn’t mistaken, the Warden was doing his best not to laugh. She could hardly believe it.

 _If I am the only one with manners in this troupe I may scream_. Her only hope was Maiara. It was a very, _very_ small hope.

Regardless of her complete abhorrence to the mage’s manners, the king seemed especially charmed. “Powerful, indeed, as I hear no objections to this boast. I am pleased to welcome you, Nereus Amell. We have too few mages here; another is always welcome.”

“I am honored to be acknowledged by your Majesty,” Nereus replied formally. Shocking Adora even further, he bowed neatly and smiled. “You are lucky to have me, I promise.”

“Call me foolish, but I’m of a mind to believe you.”

Adora jerked her head to look at Maiara, who stood to her right. The elf was standing rigidly and avidly ignoring the exchange, focusing on the way ahead of them. Her brown eyes slid to the side to look at Adora and a smile pulled at the corners of her lips. The message was clear; she was listening and choosing not to say anything. Adora gave smiled and subtly inclined her head in thanks.

Moments later, the king stepped up to Maiara, giving Adora a sympathetic look and a nod before focusing on the elven woman.

“My lady,” King Cailan smiled warmly and bowed his head ever so slightly. “Might I hear your name?”

Adoracia realized she was holding her breath in anticipation. She knew Maiara didn’t have a lot of exposure to humans. She wondered how she might react.

The dark haired woman relaxed her posture and returned the nod. “I am Maiara Mahariel of Clan Sabrae.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Maiara. I have never had the honor of meeting one of the Dalish. I hear your people possess remarkable skill and honor.”

“You have heard correctly. I am – I _was_ a warrior for my clan. I have felled many enemies in its defense. The Blight is a threat that cannot be ignored. There was a call and I have answered.” Maiara was speaking evenly and with such confidence that Adora was nearly convinced that she’d had such a meeting before.

“You sound incredibly brave.” He said, respect in every syllable as he held eye contact with her. “The Grey Wardens will be lucky to have a woman like you, Lady Maiara. I truly admire you for being so civil to a race that has treated yours so terribly.”

The elf faltered slightly in her response. “I… Thank you. I confess, I did not think it would be so easy.”

“I am glad that it is.” The king said sincerely. “I tell you this: You are very welcome here.” He stepped back and paced in front of them again before looking at them each in turn. “All of you are welcome. I am glad to have spoken with you. The Grey Wardens will benefit greatly with you to bolster their ranks. It is no surprise to me that Duncan has chosen well.”

“Your Majesty flatters me.” Duncan was grinning shamelessly.

The king laughed and clapped an armored hand on Duncan’s shoulder. “Hardly! There are few men that deserve as much respect as you, my friend. My father was lucky to have you at his side once upon a time. I am honored to have that same chance.”

One of the guards he’d sent away was approaching now. King Cailan looked back and nodded to him; the man saluted and returned to his post to wait with the others.

“I’m sorry to cut this short, but I should return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with his strategies. How convenient that he does so before I rest for the night. It’s almost like a lullaby.” The king quipped, clearly displeased with his greeting being cut short. “At any rate, I am pleased to see you arrived before night fully set in. This ruin is tricky enough in daylight as it is!”

The Warden smiled and nodded. “That it is. I suppose I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to get these four settled in with the other Wardens.”

The king laughed. “You Wardens; so eager to keep secrets, even from your own recruits! I’m sure they’ll settle in quite nicely. Now, if there’s anything else…?”

Duncan nodded. “Your uncle sends his greetings and reminds you that Redcliffe forces could be here in less than a week.”

“Ha! Eamon just wants in on the glory. We’ve won three battles against these monsters and tomorrow should be no different.” His tone was unconcerned, regardless of the mention of monsters.

“I didn’t realize things were going so well.” Nereus said with only the barest hint of amusement.

“I’m not even sure this is a _true_ Blight.” The king replied with a careless shrug. “There are plenty of darkspawn on the field, but alas, we’ve seen no sign of an archdemon.”

“Disappointed, your Majesty?” Adora saw a look of annoyance pass over Duncan’s face before he spoke.

King Cailan sighed and turned to look out into the darkness. “I’d hoped for a war like in the _tales_! A king riding with the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god!” His awestruck voice taped off to one of droll disappointment. “But I _suppose_ this will have to do.

“I must go before Loghain sends out a search party.” He said suddenly, turning to bow to their group one more time. “Farewell, Grey Wardens.”

They watched in uncertain silence as the king marched off with his accompaniment of guards. The sound of armor and stomping feet quickly faded into the distance and they were left in the entryway lit by torches and magic.

“That end bit,” Nereus said in the silence. “Not what I expected.”

Duncan groaned before gesturing for them to continue. Nereus waved his hand and the wisp dropped back to the ground to light the way ahead. Lady yapped cheerfully and went after it again.

“What the king said is true.” The Warden admitted as they walked. “They’ve won several battles against the darkspawn here.”

“I’ve gotta say, that doesn’t sound like confidence comin’ outta your mouth.” Leif said bluntly as he observed the parts of the fortress they passed through. “I was watching you. You like the kid, but you think he’s an idiot.”

Adora nearly choked on her own words; she couldn’t get them out fast enough. “Maker’s _breath_ Leif you can’t talk about the _king_ like that! What if somebody _hears you_?!”

Nereus was laughing at her kneejerk reaction, but Leif was frowning. “I’m just speaking my mind here. What’re they gonna do?”

She looked pleadingly to Duncan who shrugged. “Adora is right, Leif. While the Grey Wardens are technically considered above reproach, we do try to stay on the right side of our allies. King Cailan is a good man and he tries. He is not a Warden, however, and it has been too long since the last Blight. I don’t expect him or anyone else to understand the peril we face.”

“Is he right?” Maiara asked softly. “The king. Not Leif.”

The dwarf grunted, but Duncan held a hand for silence. “Despite the victories so far, the darkspawn horde grows stronger every day. By now, they look to outnumber us.”

“Not that I’m trying to discredit you or anything,” Nereus intoned cautiously, looking over a portion of a collapsed wall. “But how do you know? You’ve been gone for weeks.”

There was silence as they walked. Adora could see they were coming down to a long stone bridge that linked them to the rest of the fort. There was a canyon between them that stretched out into the shadows. She could see dozens of sparkling fires and hundreds of torches on the other side of the bridge. A very faint halo was glowing overhead Ostagar, bringing in light in spite of the darkness brought on by the clouds above.

“I know.” Duncan said shortly. There was somber finality in the two spoken words. “Just like I know there is an archdemon behind this. But I cannot ask the king to act solely on my feeling.”

The answer didn’t satisfy the others. Adora understood. The Grey Wardens didn’t carry the weight they used to. They would be seen as soothsayers clinging to attention they no longer deserved. Until it was too late. Then the people who had laughed at their warnings would cry out and beg for them to save them.

Ostagar was their one chance to stop it all. If they failed… It was a recipe for disaster.

“Why not? He seems to regard the Grey Wardens highly.” It was clear Leif didn’t understand the place the Wardens were in within Ferelden. Maybe things were different in Orzammar where they might actually appreciate a Warden’s use.

Duncan heaved a sigh. “Yet not enough to wait for reinforcements from the Grey Wardens of Orlais. He believes our legend alone makes him invulnerable.”

“To be fair, it’s a damned good legend.” Nereus said enthusiastically. “I’m sure we’ll be able to remind people with our heroic deeds in good time.”

The Warden gave a complimentary laugh. “Ah, if only. Our numbers in Ferelden are too few. I don’t expect impressive deeds of anything any time soon. We must do what we can and look to Teyrn Loghain to make up the difference.”

“Teyrn who?” Leif asked and yawned.

“Teyrn Loghain,” Adoracia explained patiently. “He’s a Fereldan hero. Orlais, the country to the west beyond the Frostbacks, invaded and occupied Ferelden for seventy-eight years. King Maric – that was King Cailan’s father – and his friend Loghain Mac Tir were a part of the rebellion that evicted the Orlesians from Ferelden. Loghain was a commoner, but the king raised him up as a teyrn for his part in the rebellion. He’s an accomplished war hero and one of the most impressive generals in modern history.”

“That is correct,” Duncan confirmed. “Teyrn Loghain has been handling the battle plans and it is thanks to him that we have been so successful. I believe with him on our side we have a chance to stop the Blight in its tracks.”

“Don’t you need an archdemon for that?” Leif pried. “The archdemon has to be killed to end a Blight, right? It’s not just killing darkspawn?”

The Warden nodded. “Yes. So far the archdemon has been suspiciously absent. When it shows – and it will – we will need all the Grey Wardens to be present.” He sighed as they passed another guard on their way into the main encampment. “To that end, we should proceed with the Joining ritual as soon as possible. Unfortunately it will have to wait until tomorrow. You will need an early start.”

“A ritual? Is that what you meant before?” Maiara asked accusingly. “When you said becoming a Warden would save me?”

He stopped and turned to face them. They were in a circular alcove that looked like it had been a tower in the past. “Yes, Maiara. Every recruit must go through a secret ritual we call the Joining in order to become a Grey Warden. The ritual is brief, but some preparation is required.”

“So there _is_ something different about being a Warden!” Nereus exclaimed, his eyes bright.

There was a huff of disinterest from the floor level. Nereus and Adora looked down to see Lady staring up at them. The wisp was hovering between the hound’s feet. The mage chuckled and with a wave of his hand, the light vanished.

“There is,” Duncan allowed cautiously as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. There were torches nearby, but they weren’t terribly bright. “Which I will elaborate on tomorrow. You will be introduced to the other recruits tonight and you will share a camp with them separate from the other Grey Wardens. Tomorrow, you will have a chance to explore the camp before continuing with the Joining.”

Adora didn’t like the idea of some secret ritual. It couldn’t be _too_ bad, she was sure. After all, Duncan seemed fine. Still, the very idea of it filled her with dread. The whole thing felt bad.

 _I don’t want this_. It didn’t matter that she’d made it all the way there; that she actually liked the people she was traveling with and she respected Duncan. Becoming a Grey Warden was never her dream. She could only think of the night she’d been ripped out of the only life she’d ever known.

Maiara and Duncan were speaking quietly with each other as he led them to the encampment where they would meet the other recruits. Nereus was avidly commenting on different features of the architecture and the different people they passed, seeming to grow more excited the further they went. Leif dropped behind the others to walk between Adoracia and Lady.

“Don’t like it either, huh?” He asked sullenly without looking up.

She shook her head. “Not even a little. I… this isn’t for me.”

She saw him nod. “I know, kid. And I know you don’t have a choice. I… I’m sorry.”

“Why?” She sighed gently. “It’s not your fault.”

Leif just shrugged. “I keep thinkin’… maybe I could’ve helped more, you know? Made Duncan go back for your friend or I dunno. I thought I knew him and I… we left all of those people.”

Her lips pressed together and she blinked back tears. “I know. It’s… okay. You tried. All _I_ could do was…” Things were getting blurry and the light from all of the fires swirled like fairy lights in her eyes. She wiped at her tears angrily. Now was not the time. “I’m sorry. We have people to meet, don’t we?”

There was a moment when she thought he touched her hand. When she looked, he was already walking ahead of her. Lady must have bumped her. The dog licked her hand reassuringly and she followed after the others. The night could not be over soon enough.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally~  
> We'll be spending a little time here. I'm thinking of splitting the chapters into two perspectives during long stays. So, half a chapter might be from one character's view and the second half will be from another character (usually if they're taking place at the same time in separate locations). So I guess we'll see how that goes next time.
> 
> As for the art, I'll do full colors later. I just wanted this done. Check back on my tumblr in the future for finished art.


	19. Weathered Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The recruits take some time to explore the camp.

\------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 9th

\------------------------

* * *

 

Nereus

* * *

 

 

 

They’d met the other two recruits on the night they arrived. One was a friendly man named Daveth and the other a stuffy knight by the name of Ser Jory. Nereus had high hopes for Daveth in their group, but Ser Jory struck him as a bit of a whiner. The man had won a _tourney_ of all things. That was his grand achievement that landed him his recruitment. It didn’t sound like he truly had any idea what the Wardens stood for. Daveth, on the other hand, seemed to recognize the opportunity he’d been presented with.

When Duncan had briefly introduced them, they hadn’t had much time to talk. The Warden had divvied them up in tents (Maiara and Adora; Jory and Leif; Nereus and Daveth) and told them they’d be up early the next day and to get a solid night’s sleep.

If he was being perfectly honest with himself, Nereus was glad for the order. Normally he’d be up for a nice discussion, but entering Ostagar had put a damper on his normally droll mood. There was a pall hanging over the ruins that dragged on his consciousness. It was the Veil. There had been a great deal of death and bloodshed, as well as straight up evil that had passed through the ancient fortress. It had stretched the Veil very thin in some places. He was surprised that it hadn’t torn even a little bit.

So he’d slept and dreamed of mansions and a family he hadn’t seen in years. Ambrosia wasn’t there to greet him, just as she hadn’t been ever since his Harrowing. At first he’d thought maybe it was because he wasn’t near the Circle any more. Certain spirits were said to stay in particular corners of the Fade and the Fade had the ability to be as different as the mortal landscape it reflected. Then he realized she could have visited him the night he’d stayed at The Spoiled Princess and she hadn’t. It was strange, but he was beginning to believe she was _ignoring_ him. As if they’d had a lover’s spat!

**_Next time you’ll wish you’d stayed_.**

Those had been her last words to him, before he’d woken to Jowan’s voice. He’d thought it was a threat of some kind and he’d been prepared when he’d left the Tower to defend himself. When he’d gone to sleep that night, he’d closed his eyes and in his mind he was ready for a fight. Instead there was… nothing. Peaceful, boring dreams awaited him. Night after night, the same thing. Contentment. Peace. Restfulness.

It was nauseating. He missed the challenge and the excitement of spirits spinning his dreams into elaborate fantasies. Did he… miss _her_? The demon had been a part of his dreams for years, since he’d first arrived in the Circle. Had he somehow deluded himself into thinking they were _friends_ after so much time?

 _Did she finally get inside my head?_ He’d wondered more than once. He didn’t _think_ so, but how would he really know?

Since leaving the Tower behind, his powers had begun to grow exponentially. He hadn’t brought any books with him. No notes or other belongings to help with studying. Everything he knew was in his mind.

 _Then again, I didn’t have the chance to_ use _my abilities most of the time._ There hadn’t exactly been bandits and darkspawn to slaughter in the Circle. There had been a few templars he wouldn’t have minded _erasing_ from reality, but, well… Obviously that hadn’t happened.

Being in Ostagar where the Veil was so sensitive, he couldn’t help but think of Ambrosia. When he walked the Fade that first night, he called out to her several times in his dream. There was never any answer. So he went back to the half remembered watercolor memories of his family and tried to remember what it was like to have a home.

* * *

 

\-------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 10th

\-------------------------

* * *

 

Maiara

* * *

 

 

 

There was someone singing.

Maiara lay perfectly still, trying to hone in on the beautiful sound. It sounded like it was everything. It was inside her. There were words, but she couldn’t _understand_. Creators, she _needed_ to understand. The voice was pulling at her very soul, whispering into her heart and ears alike. If only she could understand what it was saying….

Panic clawed at her chest as she jolted out of her resting position. She was sweating, panting, and her hands were tangled into tight fists around the blanket. Her brown eyes rolled in her skull as she wildly looked around, trying to get a grasp on her surroundings. She calmed when she saw the unruly red hair of the girl beside her.

 _Adora_. That’s right. She was sharing the tent with the human girl. They’d arrived at Ostagar, the fortress on the edge of the Korcari Wilds.

It was still dark outside, but she knew the sun was rising in the east. She’d spent many a time waking at the first sign of dawn in order to hunt, ambush, or simply move camp. Maiara could feel the time as easily as the temperature.

While it wouldn’t be light outside for at least another hour, there was already a decent noise about camp. It sounded just as it had when she’d gone to sleep the night before. Humans talking, yelling, running, crying… it was so _loud_. All she wanted to do was curl up in a den and listen to the song…

 _What?_ It made no sense. There was no song. Was there? She strained her ears, turning her head this way and that in a vain attempt to hear something, _anything_ like music. There was nothing but the clamor of human activity. Combat drills, shouting, cries of pain, metal against metal, booted feet on stone, dogs barking, fires crackling…

Maiara whimpered and slowly covered her ears with her hands. It was too much. It had never been like that with the clan. Their camp, busy as it could be, was always filled with joyful sounds. She had always been at peace when she’d lay awake, listening to children laughing, halla braying softly, the creak of the aravel sails as the wind blew through their camp. All while lying safe and warm, sometimes alone, other times with her vhenan tangled up with her in the blankets, his lips on her neck and hands in her hair.

Her pulse slowed and her breathing evened as she thought back to the time before she’d come to such a horrible place. Before Duncan, before the ruins, before everything had fallen to pieces faster than she could hold things together.

“Tamlen,” she breathed softly as she curled in on herself, pulling the blanket over her ears and wrapping it around herself to keep the spring chill at bay. _I’m so sorry._

She was unsure of how long she stayed like that. It was all she could do to calm down. It was too loud, there was a song, there was no song, he was gone, he was waiting for her… it was all so confusing. Time passed as she quieted her thoughts.

When her ears were no longer ringing and twitching, she felt a hand touch her shoulder as gentle as a butterfly.

“Maiara?” Adora asked gingerly, withdrawing her hand when Maiara turned to look at her. “Are you alright? I… it sounded like you were crying.”

The elven woman looked at her curiously and noted the streaks on her pale, freckled cheeks. She would certainly know what she was talking about. “Ir abelas. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The girl shook her head and smiled. “You didn’t. It got kind of noisy. I thought maybe it was time to wake up.” She nervously looked away. “Um… may I ask you something?”

She wondered what she could possibly have to ask about. “If you wish.”

There was some hesitation, but she eventually spoke again. “You’ve said ‘ir abelas’ a couple of times. I know it’s, um, Elvish. I think I know what it means? But I was just wondering if you could clarify…”

Maiara wanted to laugh. With how much reluctance had gone into asking, she’d been afraid of a much more personal query. “It is Elvish, yes. What do you think it means? I have never spoken with humans about our language, so I find myself curious.”

Adora smiled wanly in the darkness. “I guess you didn’t expect any of us to be interested. You’ve used it in the same situation where I might say ‘my apologies’ or ‘I’m sorry.’ I assume it’s similar.”

The elf nodded and was surprised to find a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “You are correct. It is not a direct translation, but that is the meaning. So far as I am aware, at least.”

“I heard a little while I was in your camp. It’s a beautiful language. I heard much more of the trade language, however. Was that for our benefit?” Now she seemed more comfortable in asking.

To this, Maiara shook her head. “No, it was not. Like much of our culture, our language is broken. We have pieced together what is possible, but much of it remains lost to us.”

She saw the girl frown, her thin brows pulling together and her lips pursing in a pout. “That’s… that’s horribly tragic. I always knew that it was bad, but… Well, I could never know how much your people have suffered. I am truly sorry that such beauty has been stripped from this world.”

“Ma serannas, falon.” Before Adora could ask, she explained. “Rough translation: thank you, friend.”

The redhead smiled timidly. “Are we… _are_ we friends?”

“I’d like us to be,” Maiara admitted cautiously. She’d never thought about spending time with humans before. Adora had been the first one that she’d connected with and it had been in a time when she’d needed the support. “We’ll be sisters in the order, will we not? I would like to believe it.”

There was a mutual silence between them as her words were processed. She didn’t mind. It was something she was coming to terms with. To become a Grey Warden was her fate. Adora, Leif, even Nereus. They would all be stuck with each other soon. She would very much like to have an ally, but a friend would be better.

“I’d like that, as well.” Adora said at last. “We can do this. Right? Because… I…”

She sounded like she was going to start crying when she turned away. Maiara uncertainly reached for her hand and held it. “You what?”

The human girl’s eyes were wet with tears as she looked up at her. “I’m… I’m scared. I don’t want to _do_ this. I don’t _want_ to be a Warden.”

The confession was a bit of a shock. Maiara hadn’t heard about how Adora was recruited, but she’d assumed she’d come along willingly. She wept sometimes, but Maiara had assumed it was due to some kind of unrelated trauma. When they’d met the king, it was the first she’d heard of the Cousland family’s doom. Before that, there hadn’t been a time when she’d suspected the girl had been conscripted. She seemed to get along with everyone well enough.

Then she told her. Whispering in the shadows of the tent as dawn slowly lit the sky above Ostagar, Adora told Maiara about the attack on Castle Cousland, how her family and friends were slaughtered, the way her mother refused to leave, and how Duncan had had to drag her away from them against her will.

By the end of it, she’d ended up holding the shivering human against her chest as she’d cried. She’d petted her hair, rubbed her back, and listened to the whole thing without saying a word. It was similar to how the Keeper had treated her when she’d explained the whole mess with Tamlen.

“I’m sorry,” the girl whispered against her chest, her pale hands threaded through Maiara’s long black hair. “I just… I can’t keep this inside all the time. I know we’ve all suffered. Our lives are linked through tragedy and betrayal. Such pain and darkness has led us down this road. I’m afraid that it will continue to haunt us.”

While she’d been thinking the same thing, Maiara couldn’t suppress the chill that ran down her spine in reaction to Adora’s words. It very much felt like that. Ever since she’d left her clan, she’d felt like the world was less bright. There were shadows in every corner, waiting for their chance to overtake the light and consume everything in their path. It was _inside_ her. She could feel it. She was haunted.

What could she possibly say to comfort her when she felt it just as surely? Words had never really been her strong suit. Tamlen had always done the talking and the smoothing over after she’d roughed her way into an incident. Now Adora was fulfilling a similar role and she needed to be consoled. How could she lie to her?

Instead of assuring her that everything would be fine, she awkwardly patted her back. “We should join the others. I hear them outside.”

She felt Adora’s shoulders sag as she sighed and pulled away. “You’re right. Best get on with it. We can always cry about it all when we’re dead, right?”

In spite of the morbid turn of conversation, Maiara smiled. “Yes. That’s exactly when.”

They could cry when they were dead. When their bodies were cold in the ground, mortal trappings stripped away, they could let their tears go free. Until then, they had a sacred duty. They would take as much of the darkness with them as they could carry. They would not let it overrun the light.

* * *

 

When they’d donned their armor and checked over their weapons, Maiara and Adora exited their shared tent. The men were already seated and standing around the fire that roared in the center of their little campsite. One of the humans from the night before, Daveth, was handing out food from a large pot.

Lady looked up from her perch by the fire and yapped cheerfully, rushing over to bump against Adora’s legs. The girl rubbed at the dog’s ears before moving to sit on Leif’s left.

“Now, I ain’t claiming to be a chef or nothing, but I _can_ cook!” The dark haired man was saying as he comically waved a wooden spoon in front of Nereus’s grinning face.

“Well, _clearly_. Have you heard of those fancy things called ‘spices’? Your… whatever-it-is _stew_ could certainly benefit from a few.” The mage quipped with a catlike grin. He shuffled his hand through his pack and brought out a small glass vial with dried leaves within. “Just _try it_. I promise it won’t turn you green.”

“I wouldn’t take him up on that if I were you.” Maiara said teasingly, taking a seat on Leif’s right as he slurped at his stew. “It’s best you learn now. This mage is a notorious trickster.”

“This man’s a mage?” The older human asked, his round face contorting distrustfully.

Nereus rolled his eyes, but otherwise seemed to take no offense to Maiara’s comment. “Ooh, I _know_. Mages sure are terrifying, aren’t they? What with their pale countenances and scholarly dispositions. We read an _awful_ lot of books, you know. For instance, did you know it only takes a single leaf from _atropa belladonna_ to kill-”

“That’s bay laurel.” Adora interrupted the mage, pointing to the vial he was holding over the stew.

Nereus paused and looked over at the redhead. A slow smile spread across his face and he shrugged before settling his bowl on his knees and plucking one of the dried leaves out of the vial to crush over his food. “So it is! Not that I _claimed_ it was otherwise. I was simply enlightening our new companions about the many useful things I learned as a frail mage trapped in a tower in a lake.”

Maiara quietly accepted the wooden bowl that Daveth handed her. He smiled nervously at her before shuffling over to sit beside the other man. She couldn’t remember his name for some reason. He was older than the rest of them and beginning to show signs of baldness. It was strange, since she didn’t see elves suffering from the same phenomenon. It seemed to be a human flaw, luckily.

“You were trying to scare him with something _other_ than your magic, you mean.” Leif corrected with a touch of wryness in his tone. He was amused, but clearly trying to make the mage back down on the new guys.

“Well that’s just rude.” Daveth mumbled over his food, shooting a hurtful glare at Nereus.

The mage shrugged again and shook the vial. “My offer still stands. I assure you, it’s worlds better.”

Sighing in exasperation, Maiara leaned over and snatched the bottle from his hand. He looked shocked as she removed a single leaf and similarly crushed it over her stew. She passed it to Leif before stirring the powdered leaf with a stick. Lifting the bowl to her lips, she sipped at the broth.

She could feel the others watching her as she finished draining the contents of the bowl. She placed the vessel on the ground beside her and pensively looked into the fire.

“ _Welllll?_ ” The query came from Nereus, of course.

Maiara shrugged without looking up. “It was good.”

“This… is from Highever.” Adora said quietly.

The elven woman jerked her head to look at the girl. She was staring at the glass vial in her hand, the stew sitting untouched in her lap. Her gray eyes lifted from the bottle to look over at Nereus.

“It grows in the forests on the coast there,” she explained softly, a cheerless smile materializing as she spoke. “Nan used to take us out to collect spices with her, before we were too old for her to be our nanny. She started sending the servants these last few years. I… I can’t remember the last time Fergus and I went out with her.”

“My lady,” Nereus intoned softly, leaning forward earnestly. “I apologize. I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay.” She clarified quickly, shaking her head. “Actually, I’m glad you got a few things out. I _did_ notice. I just… I’m glad that it was you instead of… of someone else.”

It was then that Maiara realized what they were saying. Adora had told her that Leif and Nereus had helped her and her mother reach the pantry, where they were supposed to escape. It seemed the mage had helped himself to a few of the supplies while they were there. She wanted to be angry at him for stealing while the girl’s life was crumbling around her head. It seemed so callous that he would steal from a family that was dying around him.

 _It was just kitchen supplies_ , she reminded herself. She hoped that was all. _Adora doesn’t care._ And did he not look sorry? He certainly appeared to feel that way. She hoped it was sincere.

“Maker’s breath,” the older man exclaimed, rising from his seat across the fire. He slowly maneuvered over to where Adora sat. Lady looked up from her mistress and eyed the man, but otherwise made no move to intervene. “You’re Adoracia Cousland.”

Leif rose and protectively stood in front of Adora, preventing the other man from getting too close. “So what if she is?”

The man blinked a few times, staring down at the blonde dwarf with confusion. “I do not intend her harm, if that is what you’re implying, ser dwarf.”

“What _is_ it you intend, pal? She’s got enough on her plate as it is.” Leif stood his ground, crossing his arms over his lightly armored chest.

“I don’t understand… My lady, I served Arl Eamon at Redcliffe as a knight.” The man explained, looking past Leif to the now silent girl. “I left his service to move to Highever to be with my wife, Helena. I met with your father several months ago when he held the First Day Tourney in Wintermarch.”

Maiara watched as recognition dawned in Adora’s eyes. “Oh… you were the champion. Ser Jory, was it?”

 _That was the name!_ She remembered now.

Ser Jory nodded enthusiastically and Leif reluctantly backed down. The knight (was he still a knight if he was a recruit?) knelt before Adora and bowed his head. “Yes, my lady. It was after the tourney that Duncan recruited me. I left my dear Helena in Highever and I have been at Ostagar ever since.”

Adora looked more than out of place now. She was in her shiny steel armor with her family crest etched across the breastplate, her hair rolled loosely down her back in deep red waves, noble mabari hound at her side, and a knight bowing at her feet. Looking at her like that felt wrong now that she knew what had brought her to such a place.

“I see.” She said mildly. “Rise, Ser Jory. I am no longer a noble lady.”

“My lady…?” The knight sounded baffled as he slowly rose to his feet. “I don’t understand. You can’t possibly be-”

“It seems Commander Duncan did not have his fill of recruits from Highever.” Adora’s words were harsh and clipped. “I pray that your wife is safe, Ser Jory. For Highever was betrayed – taken by fire and blood – by Arl Rendon Howe. My family is slain and the castle seized. I pray that all of Highever does not suffer under his treacherous rule.”

Her proclamation had clearly shocked the older man as he rocked back on his heels before taking several steps back. His face was a mask of dread as he ran a trembling hand through his thinning hair. “Maker, no… How does the arl think he can get away with such a reprehensible deed? The king-”

“The king has heard my plea and intends on exacting justice,” Adora said curtly, rising to her feet. “ _After_ the darkspawn are defeated. By then, I will be a Grey Warden, beholden to no land or titles. If my brother… if he does not return, I shudder to think of what might become of my home.”

Ser Jory tried to speak again, but Adora simply walked away, over to the fire. Lady followed obediently and leaned her big ahead against her partner’s leg. The knight seemed to realize his position and respectfully left her to her thoughts. He returned to stand beside Daveth, who was toying with a set of knives and ardently ignoring the rest of them. Nereus was sitting silently, looking down at his hands and Leif had moved to set himself at Adora’s side.

It was the most awfully uncomfortable silence that she’d had to endure thus far. Luckily it was not meant to last.

“I see you’re all getting along famously,” Duncan remarked upon arrival, his armor somehow avoiding the usual clatter that others seemed to produce. “Here I’d been worried this might be awkward.”

“The Joining,” Maiara stated as she jumped to attention. “When will it begin?”

“I think I’d like to know, too. Been waitin’ long enough.” Daveth said, getting to his feet. “You _did_ still plan on makin’ us Wardens, right?”

Duncan smiled assuredly. “Absolutely. Now that we have enough recruits to justify the preparation of the ritual. Now, feel free to explore the camp here as you wish. All I ask is that you do not leave it for the time being. Jory, Daveth, you two already know your way around. Consider this a free day from your training. The rest of you, take time to prepare and grow familiar with the area.

“There is another Grey Warden in the camp by the name of Alistair. When you are ready, seek him out. I expect you all back here by noon, so try not to get too lost. Until then, I have business I must attend to.”

Nereus clapped his hands together as he finished replacing things in his back and stood. “Well, if that’s the case, I’m off.”

“Where do _you_ have to go?” Leif asked suspiciously.

The mage smiled mischievously. “I’m going to look up some old friends. Perhaps acquire more suitable equipment. I recommend you do something productive, as well.”

“I’ll show you productive….” The dwarf grumbled under his breath as the lithe mage sauntered off into the main hold of the fortress.

“I should go.” Adora said dolefully, keeping her head bowed as she quickly escaped the confines of their private camp.

Lady barked and dutifully raced after her. When she caught up, the girl said something that caused the hound to return to camp, a downtrodden expression in place of her usual doggy grin.

Without waiting for an invitation, Leif grabbed his gear and chased after the human girl. Maiara turned away and looked to Duncan, who was beginning to help himself to the stew. She realized then that they were alone, aside from Lady, as Daveth and Ser Jory had made themselves scarce as well.

“I’m sure you’ll find something to occupy your mind around camp,” the Warden was saying as he casually leaned against a column to eat. “There is much to see.”

The elf shook her head and frowned. “No, at least, not yet. I… I need to ask you about something.”

His human eyes narrowed in concern. “Have you already begun to hear it?” Her face must have expressed the shock, because he nodded in understanding. “I see. It has progressed more quickly than I had foreseen. The Joining cannot come soon enough for you.”

“What do you mean?” Maiara demanded, stepping up to him, feeling the panic as her blood droned through her veins. “How did you…? What _is_ this?”

“It’s the Blight. The sickness in your blood cannot be undone… but it can be _tamed_. The Joining will see to that.” He sighed and lowered the bowl to look down at her. “If you were not here preparing to become a Warden, you would die. Or worse.”

“What could possibly be worse than dying?” She lamented, turning away from his piteous gaze.

He didn’t answer.

There was a song in her head. She wondered if he could hear it, too.

 

* * *

 

Leif

* * *

 

 

 

“I just need to be alone. I’m sorry.”

Leif watched Adora all but run off, her silvery form soon blending in with the rest of the armored humans occupying the old ruin. He found himself oddly surprised to see how many humans had such blazing red hair. He hadn’t seen as many elves with that color, but it was fairly common around his own kind.

He sighed and kicked at a cluster of rubble. He missed his sister. Of course he knew that Rica would never want the life of a warrior. She was meant to be a noblewoman. Just like Adora. It saddened him to see so many similarities between the two of them. They were both good girls put into awful situations that they couldn’t control. Now it was the second time he was unable to help one of them.

“Having lady troubles, I see.”

Leif whirled to see Daveth standing beside him. He hadn’t even heard the human approach. He’d have to keep his guard up around him. The dark haired man was smiling pleasantly, as if he hadn’t just snuck up on someone unawares.

The dwarf shook his head. “It’s not like that. She’s… a friend.”

Daveth looked at him curiously before nodding. “Got it. Just a friend then. So you wouldn’t mind if I-”

“Don’t even think about it.” He threatened lightly. “Consider her my sister. You wouldn’t let another man touch _your_ sister, would you?”

The human laughed good-naturedly. “Nah, I wouldn’t. I get ya. Off limits, that one. So, the other gal, is she your sis, too?”

“I think she’d rather speak for herself,” he admitted slowly. He knew Maiara could handle herself just fine against Daveth’s interest. The elf was tough, even though she was sick and grieving. For some reason he didn’t think she’d appreciate him trying to protect her.

Daveth shrugged with a grin. “Alright then! Well, I figure I may as well try my luck. You know, _before_ we all get killed or whatever.”

“You think we’re gonna die sometime soon?” Leif asked with interest. “You’ve been here a while. There somethin’ you wanna share?

“Not exactly…” the tall man looked around nervously before leaning down to speak. “I happened to be sneaking around camp the other night, see, and I heard a couple of Grey Wardens talking. So I listen in for a bit. I’m thinking they plan to send us into the _Wilds_.”

He frowned, finding the man’s action to be close to condescending. He wasn’t _that_ short. It wasn’t like anyone was listening in on them, either. He ignored it in favor of what he heard, though. “Yeah, so? What’s in the Wilds?”

Looking at him like he was crazy, Daveth elaborated. “Cannibals, beasts, witches, and now darkspawn?”

Leif gave him a skeptical look. “Witches? There are already plenty of mages in camp, aren’t there? What’s there to be scared of?”

“What _isn’t_ to be scared of?” The human asked with a deprecating laugh. “Besides, witches aren’t like them Circle mages. That guy, Nereus? He’s _tame._ They break mages at the Circle. He can talk big all he wants, but he’s nothing compared to the Witch of the Wilds.”

The way he spoke was nearly enough to convince him. Leif didn’t know what the difference between a witch and a mage like Nereus was, but Daveth seemed terrified. Still willing to go, obviously, since he hadn’t tried to desert in the time Duncan had been gone.

“You from around here or somethin’?” Leif was wondering if there was a bigger reason behind the human’s fear. “I haven’t exactly heard about the Wilds where I’m from.”

“Aw, yeah. Grew up in a little village not far from here,” he explained merrily. “Not even a dot on a map, but it was home. Grew up on tales about the witches in the swamp. Flemeth, mostly. She’s _The_ Witch of the Wilds. I hear she’s got a whole _coven_ of daughters that she uses to lure unwary men into the forest.”

“Let me guess,” Leif sighed, no longer interested. “That’s where the cannibalism comes in?”

“Well, not until after they’ve had their way with them,” Daveth said casually. “Gotta make more witches, right?”

He was beginning to get a headache. Daveth was a nice guy, it seemed, but not too bright. He was different from Nereus, so he’d been expecting it to be a relief, but it wasn’t. He’d at least get a more realistic answer out of the sassy mage.

Rubbing at the scar on his right brow, he asked, “Is there anything you can tell me about camp that I can use? Like, I dunno, people to talk to, any jobs that need doing. I could probably use more supplies if we’re going into the Wilds.”

“Yeah, ‘course! Let’s see, you could talk to the kennel master, I hear he was looking for some help with some hounds…”

One thing Daveth could do was talk about what was happening in camp. He learned about the different factions from around Ferelden that had pulled together to fight at Ostagar. There was drama between some of them, apparently, but nothing of much interest. Some of the scouts from a few days ago had returned bringing horror stories of the darkspawn horde. The mages were constantly under guard from the templars, which they apparently complained about night and day. There were a few smiths that would probably be happy for outside trade, so that would help him with getting rid of some of the stuff he’d picked up at the Circle. It would all be enough to keep him occupied until Duncan needed them back.

He thanked Daveth for his help and sent him on his way. He’d check out the camp at his own pace.

* * *

 

Finding the kennels was the easiest part of being in Ostagar. All he had to do was follow the barking. He saw some hounds were separate from the others in the pens. They were paired with some of the biggest humans he’d ever seen. The humans and hounds alike wore intimidating war paint and the humans glared at anyone who came too close.

Steering clear of them, he soon found the kennel master, a haggard looking man, watching over the dogs.

“Hmmm. This isn’t good.” The man was mumbling to himself, backing away from one of the isolated enclosures. “I’d hate to waste such a promising member of the breed…”

“I heard you were lookin’ for help,” Leif said, approaching the man with what he hoped was a friendly smile. “Maybe I could be of some assistance?”

“Aye, I am.” The man’s brow crinkled as he looked down at Leif. “A dwarf, eh? Don’t suppose you know much about dogs.”

He shrugged. “My friend’s got a mabari. They’re damned smart. What’s wrong with this one?”

The kennel master gave him one more curious look before waving him over. Leif could barely see over the wooden gate to the pen, but he could see the dog lying on a patch of springy moss. His tongue was lolling out of his mouth, his eyes were runny, and his breathing was erratic. It was clear that he was very ill.

“His owner died in the last battle. The poor hound swallowed darkspawn blood.” He explained, turning from the dog to look back at Leif. “I have medicine that might help, but I need him muzzled first. I can’t risk getting infected myself.”

The dwarf nodded in understanding. “You’re in luck, then. I’m going to become a Grey Warden.”

The human looked surprised. “You? I’d heard the Commander returned with some new recruits. So you’re one of them, eh? Good on you. Wardens are in short supply these days.”

“So I’ve heard. So, I muzzle him and you can save him?” He was looking between the wooden slats at the dog. He was bigger than Adora’s Lady and his coloration was a bit darker. Other than that, they were close to identical.

The kennel master nodded. “Should be able to. I don’t want to risk losing him. He’s been a solid ally in the past. These are the most valuable dogs in the world, you know. Centuries ago, a mage bred them to be smart and understand what they’re told. Shame about his partner. Good man, he was. Trouble is they generally imprint to one master; re-imprinting them is very difficult.”

“Is that the only way they’ll follow orders? If they imprint to someone?” He remembered Duncan speaking to Lady on several occasions. The mabari always followed his orders without hesitation.

“Nah, they’ll follow orders if they believe in the one giving them. They’re smart and a good judge of character.” He said, smiling fondly at the dog in the cage.

Leif nodded again. “Alright. Give me the muzzle.”

The man gaped at him for a moment before retrieving the leather muzzle and pressing it into his hands. “Thank you, my friend. I know he’ll be grateful.” He unlocked the gate and motioned for Leif to go inside. “Just go in the pen and let him smell you. We’ll know right away if he’ll respond. Let’s hope this works. I would really hate to have to put him down.”

As soon as the gate opened, the dog looked up from his place on the ground. He groggily scrambled to his feet, growling low in his throat as Leif approached. The blonde stopped just inside the gate and waited for it to close behind him. He slowly moved his empty hand out for the dog to smell. The hound cautiously stepped forward on unsteady legs, sniffing at the dwarf’s hand all while keeping eye contact. His eyes were so strange; they were as intelligent as any person he’d spoken with and when the hound stepped back, he looked at Leif with respect.

“Easy, boy,” he mumbled softly, bringing the muzzle out for the dog to see. The mabari growled weakly and the sound quickly turned into a whine. “Shh, I know. I don’t like it, either. I’m here to help, okay?”

The hound obediently tilted his head so Leif could slip the straps into place. He whimpered dejectedly, but otherwise didn’t resist. When he was done, the dog returned to his spot on the moss, his rheumy brown eyes looking up at Leif as he exited the pen.

Closing the gate again, the kennel master said a few quiet words to the dog before turning back to Leif with a grateful smile. “Well done! Now I can treat the dog properly – poor fellow.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Leif said, looking back at the dog through the wooden planks. “Is there anything else I can do?”

Hesitating as he contemplated the question, the man eventually said, “Come to think of it, are you heading into the Wilds any time soon?”

“I might be.” He admitted cautiously, crossing his arms. “Why?”

“Oh, it’s just that there’s a particular herb I could use to improve the dog’s chances.” He said obligingly. “It’s a flower that grows in the swamps here, if I remember correctly. If you happen across it, I could use it. It’s very distinctive: all white with a blood-red center.”

Leif let his arms fall to his sides. “Alright. So where in the Wilds would I find this flower?”

The man smiled with gratitude. “It usually grows in dead wood that collects at the edge of ground pools. There should be plenty this time of year. Thank you so much, ser dwarf. This means a lot.”

He shrugged casually and tried not to make a big deal out of it. “Yeah, well, it’s for a good cause. Can’t let the poor guy suffer.” He scratched at his beard and frowned. It was getting too long. “Look, I’ll keep an eye out. I’ll bring some back, in case you need more than one.”

“Thank you kindly. Really.” He said again, bowing his head. “In the meantime, I’ll keep treating our poor friend here. He’s going to need some help until you bring that flower.”

Excusing himself, Leif returned to wandering the camp. Now he was hoping that Daveth was right. He didn’t know if he’d get a reward out of it, but he wanted to help that dog. He’d never had anyone look at him with such naked trust before. Not even his family. That animal needed his help. He’d definitely be keeping an eye out for that flower.

 _All white with a blood-red center. Simple enough._ He kept repeating the description in his head as he wandered through the camp, listening carefully. He never knew what sort of thing he might overhear.

 

* * *

 

Adoracia

* * *

 

 

 

She knew Leif meant well, but she couldn’t stand the idea of anyone she knew seeing her like this. In all honesty, she hadn’t meant to break like that in front of Ser Jory. Seeing a knight treat her like that after so long… it made her feel like she was still Adoracia Cousland; not just Adora. Spending all of that time with Duncan and the others wasn’t enough to make her forget – she would _never_ forget – but it was sometimes enough to _pretend_.

After her sunrise walk with Duncan, she’d promised herself that she would _try_ to fill the role she’d been given. She wanted out of it more than anything, but she couldn’t run away. Roland had told her about how the Wardens would burn entire villages to stop the spread of the Blight… Duncan didn’t strike her as the type of man to kill a young woman in cold blood, but she couldn’t be too careful. Besides, she needed to get to Ostagar to find Fergus. As long as she stayed with the Warden and his recruits, she knew she would make it there.

Now that she’d finally made it… she didn’t know where to look. The king had told her that Fergus was scouting the Wilds, but that didn’t mean there weren’t people she could talk to about him. There was bound to be someone in camp that had met him.

Most of the army was camped in a separate part of the fortress. She could only assume that the majority of Highever’s forces were there as well. It was doubtful that she’d find anyone she knew.

So she wandered, occasionally isolating someone who looked approachable and asking if they’d seen or heard anything about her brother. Most of the people she’d stopped had no clue who she was asking about, but they tended to be respectful and sympathetic. She supposed it was her bearing that made them treat her so. After all, she still _looked_ like a noblewoman.

“I’m sorry, m’lady,” another soldier was saying, sounding slightly embarrassed. “I’m not so good with names and faces.”

Adora resisted the urge to sigh and instead smiled dimly. “It’s alright. Thank you. I’ll keep looking.”

The woman nodded and turned to leave, then quickly turned around again. “Come to think of it, I _may_ know someone you can talk to.”

She’d been about to move on herself, but the woman’s tone grabbed her attention. “I would be most grateful. Please, if there’s anyone who can help…”

The soldier smiled. “Goes by a few names, but her first is Artemis. Got a broody lookin’ brother shadowing her at all times, but I never catch his name. She’s a real stand out. Dark hair, craziest blue eyes you ever seen. Same on her brother. Hangs around the ruins to the east, just past the king’s tent.”

Adoracia inclined her head. “Thank you. I will seek out this Artemis.”

“Good luck, m’lady. I’ll pray for your brother’s safety.” The woman saluted her with a kind smile before continuing on her way.

 _Dark hair and crazy blue eyes…_ Not much to go on, but it was something. She was close to the bridge that would take her to the entrance to Ostagar. The king’s tent was to her right…

It didn’t take too long to reach the ruins in question. There was a stone ramp that led up to another section of the fortress and there were quite a few soldiers training at different tasks. She could see a group of them gathered in a semi-circle around something while a drill sergeant shouted commands, but she didn’t dare go any closer.

As she searched through the ruins, her gray eyes jumped to every woman that walked by, looking first to their hair, then their eyes; so far no luck. She travelled down one of the more isolated corridors. She could hear more soldiers training, but she figured she might as well take a look.

There was a circular alcove supported by columns, creating a nice private niche for training. Two soldiers were circling each other as they sparred. One was a tall man with unruly black hair, farm tanned skin, and blazing blue eyes. The woman was just as the soldier had described, with the same intensely bright blue eyes, wild dark hair, and a fierce grin. The man held a massive claymore in his hands and the woman held a bladed staff.

They didn’t pay Adora any heed as she stopped to watch them. The man was the first to move, lunging forward with a loping grace and heavily bringing his sword down towards the woman. Her grin never wavered as she blocked his blade with her staff, keeping him at a distance and turning the blade away. She lunged, he blocked, and the cycle continued. Their movements were full of intent, yet never predictable. It was difficult for Adora to tell which of them truly had the upper hand.

After a few minutes of watching them, she began to wonder if she should call out. They weren’t using practice weapons, after all. She didn’t want to distract them and see one of them get hurt. She couldn’t help but fidget as she waited for their match to come to an end.

The woman was the first one to give any indication that they’d noticed her.

“You enjoying the show from over there?” She called, her eyes never leaving her opponent.

Adoracia flinched and stood upright, her cheeks flushing guiltily. “I… I apologize! I didn’t want to interrupt…”

The man backed down first, grunting in disinterest. “You deal with this one, sister.”

“Catch you later! Don’t cause any trouble without me!” She cried cheerfully as her brother drifted off.

He had to walk past Adora on his way out of the alcove. Seeing him up close, she realized he couldn’t be much older than her. He was a lot younger up close and very handsome. He must have caught her staring, because a blush rose to his cheeks as he mumbled an excuse and quickly hurried past her.

“Are you Artemis?” She asked, turning to face the blue-eyed woman.

“Call me Arte,” she said, extending a hand and a smile. “Can I help you?”

Her eyes were absolutely brilliant. They were so bright and pale, framed by thick, dark lashes. She thought the coloring rare, but she’d swear by Andraste that she’d seen them before. “I’m hoping you can. My name is Adoracia Cousland. My brother Fergus arrived here some time ago. I was told by King Cailan that he’s currently scouting the Wilds, but I’d hoped to hear more news of him than that…”

As she spoke, Arte’s formerly lackadaisical attitude shifted to one of acute attentiveness. “Cousland, hm? I’ve heard the entire family was killed. Some arl’s men have been asking about the men of Highever.”

“ _Howe._ ” Adoracia hissed sharply, fear and rage mingling in her normally docile voice.

“Don’t you mean ‘who’?” Arte asked, confusion taking over the slight suspicion she’d displayed a moment before.

She shook her head. “Arl Rendon Howe. They’re his men. He’s trying to cover his tracks.”

Arte’s eyes softened significantly as she pieced everything together. “So this Arl Howe is the culprit. How positively _Orlesian_. I haven’t said anything to them, but the men of Highever are fine. They’re with the king’s army, in the southern fields. I’m sure they’ve heard of what’s happened by now, even if they don’t know who’s behind it.”

“My brother and his men left the day before the arl’s men attacked. I know they made it here safely, I just…” She took a steadying breath. “I wanted to know if maybe… maybe my brother…”

It was difficult to continue. She’d been dragging it up again and again since telling the king. Artemis seemed to understand. She placed a soothing hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes, holding all of her attention.

“The news did not arrive until after your brother was sent into the Wilds,” she verified, speaking calmly. “He does not know. I spoke with him on several occasions – for a noble, he quite enjoys drinks with us common folk. He’s a good man; every bit deserving of the title ‘noble’. He’ll make it through.”

Her voice was so considerate, yet full of assurance. Artemis sounded like she knew exactly how things would turn out and it was heartening. Adoracia found herself nodding as she looked into the other woman’s eyes. They were beautiful eyes, like orbs of winter ice.

“Thank you, Artemis. I just…” She took a breath and let it out. “I needed to hear it from someone who met him.”

Artemis released her and stepped back with a sweet smile. “You nobles are always so formal. Well, maybe not your brother. As soon as he hears a nickname, he sticks with it.”

To her great surprise, Adora giggled. “Oh, don’t I know it! He’s been calling me ‘Adora Bell’ for as long as I can remember.”

“That’s… that’s actually really cute!” Arte exclaimed, laughing as well. “I like that _much_ better.”

“It was cute when I was a _kid_ , sure.” She smiled despite the implied dislike. “He doesn’t care, though. I’ll always be his baby sister.”

 _Maker, please let me always be his baby sister._ What if he blamed her for what had happened? She’d promised to protect them and she’d failed. Now they were all dead. She and Fergus were the only Couslands left. _What if he never forgives me?_

The dismay must have broken through to the surface, because Artemis had taken her hand in her own.

“Hey,” she was saying softly, her blue eyes burning with emotions. “I’m an older sibling. My little brother, he’s about your age. You saw him. He’s a _total_ pain in the ass most days; always contrary, ornery, and stubborn to the core. And I will love him till my dying breath, no matter what. He will _always_ be my baby brother. I know your brother feels the same about you. No matter what happened… he loves you.”

All she wanted to do was cry and hug the strange, kind woman that was holding her hand. There was just something about Artemis. An aura, if one believed in such things, which implied she was of noble purpose. Her eyes and voice said she would do anything to help those who deserved it.

“Your brother is lucky to have a sister like you,” she said brokenly, sniffling as she forced the tears to retreat. “I wish I could say the same for my brother. He deserved someone stronger than I.”

Artemis sighed and squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. You’ll understand when you see him again. He got the right sister.” She gave her a look that tolerated no dispute. “I don’t know what you think you did, but I can tell you’re not a bad person. I’m a good judge of character like that. Whatever it is, he won’t blame you. He’s a good man. He’ll know.”

Impatient footsteps sounded from behind her and Adora wasn’t surprised when she saw Arte’s brother returning, a scowl marring his handsome features. His irritated pace slowed and his face melted into concern when he saw the look on Adora’s face.

“Is everything all right?” He asked hesitantly, slowly circling over to his sister’s side of the little nook they stood in.

“It’s nothing to worry about. Thank you for speaking with me, Arte,” Adoracia said quickly, releasing the other woman’s hand and stepping back towards the corridor she’d come from. “I appreciate everything you’ve said.”

“You’re welcome, Adora Bell!” Arte called after her impishly. “I’ll be sure to throw any Howe-men off a cliff!”

“What?!” Her brother bellowed in alarm.

Artemis’s pealing laugh echoed out from the ruins as Adora retreated further from the siblings. She hoped they all made it out alive. She was meeting far too many good people in a time when nothing was certain, least of all their fates.

As she returned to the central district of Ostagar, she found herself hoping that she would meet Artemis and her brother again. Although, she never did catch her brother’s name. Or their last name.

Now she was determined to find them after the battle just to ask.

* * *

 

After speaking with Artemis, Adora didn’t quite know where to go from there. Ostagar was a large fortress and she’d spent the last couple of hours walking the length of it during her journey to secure news of her brother. Now she knew some of Arl Howe’s men were lurking about, asking about the men of her home. She wondered if any had asked about her, but then she figured Arte might have mentioned that if it had been the case.

Now she knew more than she did before, but she didn’t know what to do with the knowledge. Should she be content that her brother was scouting the Wilds, unaware that his wife and son lay dead in faraway Highever? According to the king, he wasn’t expected to return until after the battle slated for that evening. The Joining would take place before the battle. By the time Fergus returned to Ostagar, Adoracia would no longer be nobility.

 _I could escape._ Could she? Would she not simply be caught, tried as a deserter, and handed over to the Wardens anyway? It was foolish to even think that she had the skills to evade detection. The Imperial Highway was the fastest way out, but it was out in the open and anyone with eyes would see a lone girl in armor running _away_ from the battle. The Wilds were simply out of the question. She’d never dare set foot in the haunted swamp.

 _There’s no way out…_ She wasn’t the only one thinking that. Adora could hear the cries of the wounded and the frightened. Everyone was terrified, even if it didn’t show on their faces as they passed from one duty to another.

Quickly moving away from the sounds of fear and distress, Adora soon found herself pressed into a crowd. Some soldiers knelt on the ground while others stood, looking up with hope in their eyes. Following their gaze, she saw a wooden stage with a Chantry sister standing on the edge. The woman had her head bowed in prayer with hands outstretched above the crowd as her voice swept over them, carrying hymns, phrases of encouragement, and promises of salvation.

Adoracia believed in the Maker as much as the next Fereldan, but she’d never thought of taking solace in the Chant when her life was spiraling out of control. All she’d been able to think of was her next move or remind herself to stay silent when she only wanted to scream. It was all she could do just to function most of the time. Now that she was faced with a calling she’d never wanted…

It wouldn’t hurt to listen for a short time. Duncan didn’t need them back for a while. Still, she didn’t want to be completely surrounded by the faithful as they converged around the stage. It was too much. She didn’t like feeling so closed in.

Carefully maneuvering backward through the crowd, she started rethinking her urge to attend the Chantry sister’s sermon. Peace did not settle over her heart as she gently pushed passed the desperate congregation. All she could think of right then was getting away and finding somewhere quiet.

Right when she thought she was free and clear, she looked up in time to walk into a person passing by. The two of them stumbled as they collided and Adora almost tumbled to the ground over her lost balance. The stranger stopped her fall with a steadying hand bracing her shoulder.

“My apologies,” she said hastily, stepping away from the soldier and taking care not to bump into anyone else. “I wasn’t paying attention. I… thank you.”

She’d lost her train of thought for a moment when she’d finally gotten a good look at the man she’d all but crashed into. He was tall and obviously fit under the splintmail armor he wore, with a large shield strapped to his back and a longsword on his hip. His golden hair was short on the sides, but long on top and it looked like he may have styled it, of all things. His brown eyes flickered with amusement as a crooked smile graced his lips.

“Are you thanking me for practically knocking you over or for making sure you didn’t dent that nice armor of yours?” He asked glibly, stepping out of the way of foot traffic as he spoke.

Adoracia blushed slightly and did her best not to look away. He was absurdly handsome. It seemed to be the day for men like that. “I believe I’m the one who almost knocked _you_ over… or, rather, I would have if you weren’t so…” _broad shouldered, well balanced, and clearly immune to knock-downs?_ “Sturdy.” She finished lamely, finding it more than passing strange that her own fluent tongue was evading her. “I thank you for assuring I wasn’t brought down by my own clumsiness.”

The man chuckled lightly and shrugged. “Well, I’m glad to have helped.” He looked beyond her to the mass gathered for the sermon. “Ah, trying to escape the inevitable boredom of the Chant? I’d be running, too.”

Her eyes widened dramatically at his casual insult to the devout assembly behind them. His voice had been low enough that his comment had gone unheard, but she still couldn’t believe he’d had the gall to say such a thing aloud.

“I was just…” She was desperate to move past the remark, but her words continued to fail her. “I was hoping to find somewhere quiet.”

“Oh, is _that_ all?” He enquired teasingly. “Say no more, my lady. I know just the place!” He motioned for her to walk with him and took off towards the bridge. When she didn’t immediately follow, he turned with a heart melting smile. “I mean, you don’t _have_ to. It’s only if you’re interested in somewhere you can clear your head.”

There was only a moment of hesitation before she followed, jogging to catch up with him. He took long, leisurely strides going along the bridge and she felt herself working to keep up. He was so tall; it was difficult for her to look up at him without being too forward. Every time she thought he might look at her, she quickly looked away, focusing instead on her own steps and taking care to avoid the rubble that lay scattered across different sections of the bridge.

“So, let me guess,” he said slowly, drawing the last word out. “Your family sent you down here as a lesson on respect? What did you do?”

For a moment, she wondered what he could be talking about. Then she realized he didn’t think she was a normal soldier. Of course she didn’t look like one. Her armor was of a much finer quality than any of the soldiers she’d seen. _He must think I’m some noble brat who was sent off to war as a punishment._ It only made sense, of course.

“Not exactly.” she said quietly, not wanting to go off on some stranger. There was no way he could know… Or could he?

Howe’s men were asking about Highever. She wore the Cousland crest on her armor. Could the entire exchange be a ruse? He was taking her away from the main camp after all. It could all be a trap.

“Can’t imagine what someone like you would be doing here,” he said nonchalantly. “I mean, I don’t mean that you’re not a fine warrior. I’m sure you are. I just meant that you look… important.”

 _I’m growing paranoid._ She thought and sighed. The man at her side was no threat as far as she could tell. His mannerisms betrayed his sense of honesty.

“I’m nobody.” _Or soon will be_. “I’m not a fine warrior, either.”

Even though her eyes were trained on the ground, she could feel him looking at her. She didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to offend, my lady. You have my apologies.” His voice was warm and kind, his tone the essence of sincerity. “I simply mean to say that… you don’t look like you belong here. Not with the rabble, at least.”

“That’s funny,” she said, looking up at last with a wan smile. “Because I don’t think I belong here either. Yet here I am.”

To her surprise, his eyes did not show pity, but understanding. He looked away. “I don’t suppose you do. So, what _was_ it? Are you on the run from an arranged marriage? Did you offend some wicked arlessa with your charm? Come on, indulge me; I’m desperate for some juicy gossip.”

She laughed, in spite of the situation. They were almost across the bridge. “I must have done _something_ to someone to have ended up here, hm? Can you not imagine I may have simply irritated someone enough to be sent away? Perhaps I stole the crown jewels and I was conscripted to fight against the darkspawn.”

“Not at all, my lady. You’re the epitome of charm and grace.” He said with a small smile. “Not to mention I’m sure if you _were_ a thief you wouldn’t have walked into someone while you escaped the crowd… or _maybe_ that’s how you were caught? Is that it?”

“That would be horribly ironic. I’d make a poor thief.” She admitted with a sigh.

The man laughed. “I guess I won’t have to guard my pockets around you, then!”

They were at the entrance. She remembered the courtyard from the night before when King Cailan had greeted them. It was different in the daylight. Now she could see the great tower that rose up from beyond the barrier to their left. The ground dropped beyond a slope to their right and she could see more columns, domes, and arches of the ruins below.

The blonde soldier led her down the stone ramp to the right. She could see a few men on patrol near the edge of the ruins, but they didn’t pay any attention to them. He led her further down the right where the ruins were overgrown with grass and flowers. Eventually they came to a little dome backed by a stone wall and supported by columns that overlooked the valley below.

“I’ve been running all over Ostagar for over a month, so I have a pretty good idea of where everything is,” he was saying, motioning towards some crates and sacks piled up against the wall. “Those’re empty. Well, mostly.”

He opened one of the crates and pulled out a bedroll and blanket. He looked embarrassed, but tossed them onto the ground anyway. “I, uh, sometimes I come here to nap. Not that I’m _lazy_ or anything. I do a lot. Sometimes I just… need a break.”

Adora almost started crying again. It was just one of those days. This man she’d been rude enough to run into was sharing one of his hiding places so she could get some peace and quiet. Everyone she’d spent time with today had been so kind. It wasn’t anything she’d expected when she’d arrived in a place readying itself for war.

Choking back the tears, she forced a smile into place. “That… this is really nice of you. Thank you.”

His smiles were simply radiant; they warmed her heart. Leif was like that; Artemis, as well. There were just some people that had an effect on others and he was one of them.

“You’re welcome. I don’t, well, I don’t know _any_ thing about you.” He confessed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck and averting his gaze. “But I know when someone’s been through a lot. I don’t mind helping.”

She nodded absentmindedly and moved to sit on one of the crates. The view was beautiful. She could tell from her vantage point that battles had been fought in the valley below, but there was no way to discern the carnage from the height she was at. So it remained beautiful, even if the landscape was scarred by fire and pits dug into the earth. The wind whirled by and whistled through the cracks in the stone, forming a natural discordant tune. She could see how such a place would aid someone’s rest.

“So,” the man asked inquisitively. “Is this quiet enough?”

Adora smiled and bobbed her head definitely. “Yes, it is. This is… nice. I hope I’m not stealing it away from you.”

He laughed contentedly. “Well, I guess that would be the _one_ thing you steal from me! You’re a thief after all.”

She wanted to say something clever and charming, but nothing was coming to mind. All she could do was smile and look away. She could hear other people talking, now. There was a woman speaking to one of the soldiers they’d passed earlier.

The man must have heard as well, because he sighed and looked around the wall. “Oh no. I’m afraid _that_ one’s looking for me.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve already given this spot away to _another_ girl,” she japed, finally thinking of something to say.

He looked back with mock hurt. “Never! My lady, I assure you, you’re the only one.”

The woman’s words were clear now: “Where did that young man get off to now?”

The young man in question groaned resignedly. “Maker’s breath, she just doesn’t give _up_.” He gave Adora an apologetic smile. “Rest well. It seems I have errands yet to perform.”

“Thank you again,” she said quickly as he walked away. He was already rounding the corner and calling out to the woman. “Whoever you are…”

“Revered Mother! What can I do for you?”

The woman’s demanding voice was soon drowned out by the song of the wind as she was led away from the secret corner of the ruin.

Adoracia sighed and leaned against the wall. A nap didn’t seem like a bad idea. She looked down at the bedroll and blanket, wondering how many times the blonde man had crept out to the quiet ruins to get away from the noise and bustle of the fortress. If the Revered Mother had him running errands, he was probably kept fairly busy.

Sliding down from the crate to the ground, Adora removed her pauldrons and breastplate so she was just in her leathers and the cloth beneath. Wrapping herself in the blanket on the thin bedroll, she closed her eyes against the brightness of the overcast sky and willed herself to rest.

 

* * *

 

Maiara

* * *

 

 

 

For some time, Maiara could not force herself to leave the recruit encampment. Her conversation with Duncan had her worried. The Joining did not sound pleasant, but neither did succumbing to whatever was pulsing through her veins. The Warden had advised her to explore the camp, but she didn’t want to find herself lost among the human soldiers. She could hear well enough how the encounters might go. There were many elves in the camp, but the majority seemed to be servants rather than warriors. With how stressed she was feeling, she doubted she could hold her tongue if some human were to treat her with such indignity.

So she sat alone, staring into the fire while Duncan went over scrolls, occasionally scratching something out with a quill and sending a document out with a messenger. The mabari sat nearby as well, occasionally letting out a bored puff of air. She seemed upset that her mistress had sent her back to camp.

Maiara was starting to drift off, listening to the song in her blood as it pulled her mind away from the present. Clumsy human footsteps sounded nearby, jolting her out of the lullaby when she realized they were walking in her direction. She sat up straight and saw one of the recruits from earlier, the young man Daveth. He smiled disarmingly and took a seat beside her, sitting far too close for comfort.

“So, I was thinking-”

“No.” She said tartly, cutting him off.

He laughed, unoffended by her terseness. “You don’t even-”

“I don’t care.” Maiara sighed, rising from the log to walk away. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially someone she didn’t know.

While she was aware that she would have to get to know the other recruits, she just didn’t have it in her at the moment. The morning had been stressful enough. Perhaps after the Joining, when she was sure she wasn’t going to die, she might take the time to speak with the other Wardens.

As she stalked away from camp, she did her best to avoid locking eyes with anyone. She kept her stride purposeful and her stance aggressive to ward off anyone who might even think they needed to speak with her. There was nothing she needed to hear from anyone there.

After some time of wandering around the fortress and trying to learn the look of things, something stood out. Well, some _one_. Yet that didn’t seem right at the same time.

A man dressed as a mage stood alone near a chest and some tents. His gaze was vacant and his entire demeanor seemed devoid of life and emotion. She’d never seen someone stand so still and without purpose before. As she drew closer, she noticed a dark brand in the center of his forehead. He didn’t seem to pay any attention to her, even as she was directly approaching him. It was the strangest thing. She almost felt like she was staring at a statue.

When she was right before the husk, his eyes jumped to hers, startling her.

“Welcome, young woman.” He said blandly, his voice entirely without inflection.

Something about him seemed wrong, but not dangerous. _What have these humans done?_

“Who are you?” She asked cautiously, circling him warily. His head did not turn to follow her, but his eyes were always on hers when she came around to face him. “Why is there a brand on your forehead?”

The strange man answered her calmly. “I am one of the Tranquil, my friend. I’m of the Circle of Magi, but instead of casting spells and reading tomes, I spend my time enchanting.” While his words implied he’d given the lecture before, his tone was bereft of any emotion that might indicate he was offended by the questions. “It is a time-consuming process, but invaluable. Enchantment provides the Circle its wealth. Certainly, we would not get by on charity.”

Maiara stopped in front of him, watching his face carefully. Surely he couldn’t always act that way? Everyone had something unique about the way they behaved. “Your voice… it is unusual. Why do you speak to me like this?”

The man looked at her placidly as he considered her question. “Allow me to put it this way. Do you know why those with magical talent are feared?”

She thought of the explosion of blood and bone on the highway. “I… may have some insight.”

“Those with magical talent attract demons and spirits. We can be possessed easily, and thus become horrors known as abominations.” His lecture continued in a monotonous stream of words as he explained his condition. “Even those with minor talents attract hungry spirits. Anyone with the power may learn blood magic from these demons. Hence we are considered dangerous. This is our curse. Thus I was made Tranquil. Stripped of emotions and talent, I am no longer dangerous.”

If she understood him correctly, it seemed his condition was indeed placed upon him by others. She’d always figured that those with magic lived a dangerous life, but she’d never questioned it before. The Keeper and Merrill were her only examples of mages before meeting Nereus and they were so responsible and kind. She didn’t think _they_ were susceptible to the whispers of demons. Perhaps it was a human thing?

“That… you have _no_ emotions? That sounds like a horrid practice.” She shook her head in disbelief, wondering how someone could be subjected to such a thing. “I am not surprised to find humans so barbaric.”

Once again, the man was unfazed by her words. “It might seem such to you, but I feel no horror. I am content to serve in my role.”

He was _content_ to have been stripped of his soul? Maiara felt sick, but she had to know more. Humans and their practices were foreign to her and she’d never taken the time to understand before. Now she would be living among them. She could not afford to remain ignorant.

“How do they do this? Is it something to do with that brand?”

The Tranquil man nodded. “You are correct. Our forehead is branded with magic, which stills our talent and mind. The process is irreversible, as far as I am aware.”

She’d seen human farms with branded cattle and druffalo. Their Halla Keeper had spoken of the practice with horror, explaining that it was a way for the humans to mark the animals that belonged to them. Was that similar to the branding of the Tranquil? It seemed horribly cruel.

“I… I do not know if this means anything, but I feel sorry for you.” Could he even understand her? For all of his words and explanations, he hardly seemed like a thinking individual. “A life without emotions… I cannot imagine it.”

“You do? I feel nothing.” His peaceful words were disturbing. “As the name suggests, my existence is quite peaceful. I am alive, productive, and no danger to anyone. Surely that is not a terrible thing?”

“It is.” She countered to no effect. “You just don’t know any better.”

The man was silent as he processed her words. She watched him, seeing no emotions, no thoughts passing through the emptiness in her eyes. It was a mistake for her to have spoken to him. _Is this what Nereus had faced in his Circle?_ If so, it was no wonder that he was so bitter.

After some time, the man spoke again. “Perhaps we could talk about something else? May I assist you?”

It was like they hadn’t spoken at all. There was no tone to indicate he even knew she was the same person from before. She took a step back, distress clawing at her heart over the hollow man before her. “I should go.”

She could hear his placid voice behind her as she briskly walked away.

“Goodbye.”

It was eerie, hearing that shell of a person echoing behind her. How could humans do such a thing? They were crueler to mages than she could have imagined. It wasn’t enough to lock them away, caged like animals. They had to strip them of their feelings, their very souls and identities, if they considered them too weak. They were such frightened, ignorant creatures, fearing that which they couldn’t understand and subjugating those they called “different.”

_It’s a wonder we were ever conquered by such frightened children._

Now they ruled all the land while The People were scattered to the winds, struggling to recover and preserve what little culture they could find. It was a sad, backwards world and she wondered why she should even bother saving it.

* * *

 

Her flight from the Tranquil man led her to yet another nightmare.

In her desperation to be away from the hollow man, she’d run instead towards the sickbay. The cries of pain and moans of the infected were all around her. There were nurses and surgeons attending to those they could, but there were some that were beyond help. There were several covered bodies lying apart from the others, the blankets shifting strangely as they coughed and groaned.

The song in her blood cried out to the isolated ones and she all but stumbled towards them. She could feel the darkness curling around her mind as the buzzing in her mind rose to a crescendo.

“You!” A voice from the injured cried out to her.

The buzzing stopped and she turned to face the soldier who’d called out to her. There was no mistake, he was looking right at her. A young nurse ran to his side and tried to soothe him, but he continued to cry out to Maiara instead.

“You need to convince them!” He shouted as she approached. She couldn’t help herself, she was curious to know why he’d singled her out. “We’ve got to run! The darkspawn are _coming!_ ”

She sighed, frustrated. “This is not a sudden revelation, I take it?”

He shook his head wildly, his eyes red from lack of sleep. “I _saw_ them! In the Wilds… We’re gonna die!”

“I apologize, Warden.” The nurse said tiredly, wiping at the man’s forehead with a cool cloth. “He’s been like this ever since they found him in the Wilds.”

Maiara stared at the woman enquiringly. “I’m not a Warden.” _Not yet._

The woman looked surprised. “You’re not? He’s only been calling to the Wardens. I’m sorry, I simply assumed…”

 _How peculiar…_ She shrugged it off and looked back at the panicked human. “What’s wrong with him? He seems delirious.”

The nurse regained her composure and sighed heavily. “Aside from his wounds, we’re not sure. He’s just… terrified.”

“You… you can feel it, can’t you?” The man whispered conspiratorially. “They taint the land, turn it black and sick. You can feel it inside! It’s in _you.”_

“ _What?_ ” Maiara hissed in shock, taking a step back. She looked to the nurse, but the woman didn’t seem to have heard him.

“They’ll come out of that forest and spread!” The man continued to rant, his voice rising and falling jarringly. “Like… caterpillars covering a tree, they’ll swallow us _whole!”_

“You’re mad…” He had to be. There was no way he could feel it, not like her.

“Can you hear the song?” He crooned softly, his words turning to a moan of pain.

Maiara’s blood turned to ice and her eyes widened in horror. _He knew._

 _“_ That’s quite enough out of you.” The nurse said exhaustedly. “You need to calm yourself, my good man.”

The elf turned to walk away, but she could hear the man shouting madly from his cot.

“They were everywhere! I saw them! I _saw_ them!”

Her pace quickened as she hurried away, his panicked voice ringing in her ears. It was a mistake to leave the camp. She was going back and she wasn’t leaving until the Joining. Humans were crazy. That had to be it. They were all cracked in the head. Could she really deal with that?

 _Do the Joining,_ she told herself, trying to calm the frantic beating of her heart. _Become a Grey Warden. Fight in their war while they need you. When you’ve served your purpose, return to the forest and rest._

That was the only solution. She would fight with the humans while she had no choice, but once the darkspawn were defeated, she would disappear.

After all, she still had to find Tamlen. He must be waiting for her in the forest. She could feel it in her blood. He was waiting.

 

* * *

 

Leif

* * *

 

 

 

 

The fortress was even larger than he could have imagined. Leif had his hands full just exploring the area near the recruit camp. After speaking with the kennel master, he’d had a chance to speak to the big humans with their hounds. They called themselves Ash Warriors and apparently trained after an ancient dwarven discipline. He’d been surprised to learn that humans admired his people so much.

After the Ash Warriors, he’d found the gate that led to the Wilds. It was heavily guarded and he didn’t see anyone coming in or out in the time he’d taken to observe. So he’d moved on, following the edge of camp. He found a few hidden chests here and there and seeing as there was no one around to guard them, he’d relieved them of their contents. His bag was beginning to fill up, so he figured he’d find a place to sell what he couldn’t use.

Coming out of a cluster of trees and tall grasses, he found himself in front of a large, colorful tent. He eyeballed it warily as he walked the length of it, eventually coming up to a solitary human guard.

“You approach the tent of Teyrn Loghain.” The human declared brashly, glaring down at him suspiciously. “State your business.”

Leif looked at the guard impassively. The others had mentioned the teyrn before… it might be a good chance to learn something about the man that would supposedly lead them to victory. “The Teyrn… is he inside or somethin’?”

The guard relaxed his stance. “He is, but… I don’t think it’s my place to discuss his activities.”

Leif shrugged casually. “I get ya. In case it’s not obvious, I’m not exactly from around here. I don’t really know much about the teyrn, but I’ve heard he’s a hero and he’s gonna make sure we don’t lose against the darkspawn tonight. I just want to know more about him.”

“I suppose… as long as we talk quietly.” The guard leaned down to speak more softly, clearly eager to indulge in a bit of gossip. “He and the king have been arguing for _days._ The teyrn’s known the king since he was swaddled, so they don’t stand on ceremony. The teyrn speaks his mind and the king yells right back. Personally, _I_ think the king should do what Teyrn Loghain tells him. Without the teyrn, we wouldn’t be doing as well here as we are.”

Leif nodded appreciatively. It sounded like Fereldan politics were very casual. He could appreciate the simplicity. “Sounds like quite the guy.” The guard at least seemed to think so. So did Duncan. He wondered if he was really better than the young king. “Don’t suppose I’d get a chance to talk with him…”

The guardsman considered it, straightening as he assessed the dwarf in front of him. “Hmmm, I suppose you have a message for him? Hold on, then…”

“I don’t…” the man had already gone inside before Leif could explain that there wasn’t a message. He sighed and wondered if maybe he should get lost. To his surprise, the guard returned less than a minute later with who he could only assume was Teyrn Loghain.

The massive armored man before him was definitely impressive. He looked about the same height as the king, but to be honest, human height was something difficult for Leif to determine. The man was older than most of the humans he’d seen, definitely older than Duncan at least. His dark hair was streaked with gray, his tanned skin pulled tight against his angular features, and his sharp gray eyes glanced about calculatedly.

At last, his gaze landed on Leif. “Yes, what is it?” He seemed to assess him rather quickly and nodded to himself. “Ah, you are one of Duncan’s new Grey Wardens, I assume. Cailan said something about you all last night.”

He was surprised that he could tell who he was based on a single report from the king. “Yeah, he seemed pretty excited.”

“Cailan’s fascination with the Wardens goes beyond the ordinary.” Teyrn Loghain explained drolly. “Are you aware his father brought your order back to Ferelden?”

Leif shook his head. “Can’t say I did. Sounds like he had the right idea.”

The teyrn watched him cagily. “Perhaps. Maric respected the Grey Wardens. They have an honored place in the hearts of our people.” He sighed, looking like a weary veteran for a moment instead of a strong warrior. “But Maric would have understood that it takes more that legends to win a battle. That’s not an argument I’ll repeat here.”

His words resonated with Leif and he found himself nodding in agreement. “You’re right.” The teyrn aimed a surprised look his way. “Duncan says there aren’t enough Wardens here as it is. He said _you’re_ the one that’s going to determine how the battle goes. I know the Grey Wardens are a legend, but they recruited _me_. I know what I am. I won’t pretend to be invincible when I’m not.”

There was mutual silence between them as the teyrn seemed to reevaluate him. “You show a lot of wisdom for someone so young. I see Duncan didn’t find a fool when he recruited you.” He smiled approvingly. “I don’t suppose you’ll be riding into the thick of battle with the rest of your fellows, will you?”

Leif shrugged apathetically. “I doubt it. Duncan doesn’t seem keen on us new guys mixing with the veteran Wardens.”

Teyrn Loghain nodded empathetically. “It may be for the best. You don’t want to enter a battle you’re not ready for.” Sparing him a fleeting curious glance, he finished: “Now I must return to my task. Pray that our king proves amenable to wisdom, if you’re the praying sort.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Leif asked quickly as the teyrn turned away.

The old warrior paused, looking over his shoulder. “Then simply pray.”

With a parting nod to Leif, the teyrn returned to his tent and the guard took up his position once more.

“Teyrn must’ve seen something in you,” the man said, sounding slightly in awe. “Don’t think he would have stuck around to talk so much otherwise.”

Leif felt a swell of pride in his chest over the human’s confession. The teyrn seemed like an honorable man.  He might not understand why he’d take the time to talk to a casteless dwarf, but he was glad that he had done so. Now he understood the trust Duncan had in him.

Taking his leave to continue exploring, he couldn’t help but have a good feeling about the battle to come. Once he went through the Joining, he’d be a true Grey Warden. He’d have the honor of fighting with the others against the darkspawn tide. Maybe not that night, but soon. He’d do his part and protect the world from the Blight.

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the longest chapter so far. I thought about splitting it between two characters, but I figured I'd get more done with all four. One of the characters took up waaaay too much space, so they get the next chapter to themselves.  
> Hopefully there aren't too many mistakes here. I only skimmed over it when doing corrections.


	20. Human Error

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nereus meets up with old friends and enemies while exploring Ostagar.

\------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 9th

\------------------------

 

Getting away from the recruit camp was probably the best decision he’d made all day. Not that there’d been much of a day before that. His sleep had been more restless than soothing and getting up hadn’t offered much of a reprieve. Everyone seemed so down that he couldn’t help but meddle a little. He’d simply sought to lighten the mood with a simple round of banter. It had appeared to work – even the elf’s words had little venom in them – until Adora had recognized the vial of herbs.

It wasn’t as if he’d been trying to hide them from her or anything. Ever since the morning after their escape of Highever, he’d been using what he’d taken from the castle to accent their meals. He’d suspected she knew and hadn’t said anything. Clearly that hadn’t been the case. While she didn’t blame him for his theft, at least not outwardly, the reminder that her home was gone was enough to trigger a negative reaction from the girl.

When that obnoxious knight had inserted himself in the conversation, Nereus had been more than tempted to jolt the man with a bolt of magic. The man’s blindness to the situation at hand seemed to be enough to tip Adora over the edge as she’d sharply informed him of the tragedy that had brought her to Ostagar.

They were lucky that Duncan had chosen that time to arrive with their orders. If he hadn’t, it was very likely that a fight would have broken out between at least a few of the recruits.

Now that he had a little bit of time to explore, Nereus figured it might be a good time to learn the lay of the land. Surely the battle wouldn’t be taking place _in_ the fortress, but things always had the propensity to go wrong. It would be best if he knew the most easily defensible positions, as well as any alternatives of escape aside from the main entrance they’d used.

 _And if I happen to find something_ else _along the way… well._ He wouldn’t object to relieving others of burdensome items.

He would start on this side of the bridge, since the majority of activity seemed to be there. There was a steady stream of foot traffic running through the main hall of the fortress. Surely there would be plenty of game available to him…

A tingling sensation buzzed at the edge of his perception and he stopped just shy of the main walkway. Honing in on the feeling, he started moving towards the bridge, but kept to the left. There was a _lot_ of magic being worked nearby.

Now he could see the colorful tents and drapes beyond some blockades. There was a flag with the symbol of the Circle of Magi emblazoned in gold across its sapphire cloth. Following the barrier to its conclusion, he found an archway guarded by two templars.

Of course the Chantry wouldn’t allow mages to be _helpful_ without sending a few of their guard dogs. Just in case those rowdy mages got it in their heads that maybe, just _maybe_ they were useful enough to warrant a small slice of freedom. They weren’t even free to mingle with the people they’d be shedding blood with.

Nereus realized he was grinding his teeth and smoothed his face into one of schooled calm. He fished the Circle ring out of his pocket and placed it on the middle finger of his left hand. Gripping his staff with his right, he marched up to the Templars and attempted to pass into the mage camp.

“Halt!” An armored limb blocked his passage. “The mages are not to be disturbed. Their spirits are in the Fade.”

Rolling his eyes and huffing impatiently, Nereus took a step back from the templars. “As if I cannot see with my own eyes. This _is_ the camp belonging to the Circle of Magi, is it not?”

“It is.” The other templar said testily. “And it is not to be disturbed by outsiders.”

Lifting his staff in front of him with one hand and brandishing the ring on his finger (with _only_ that finger) on the other, he dramatically stated, “Oh my, would you look at that! A ring symbolizing _my_ inclusion within the Circle! And a _staff!_ What madness is this? Why, _I_ must be a mage!”

The first templar that had blocked him took a menacing step forward, but the second one motioned for him to stop. Nereus casually adopted his most nonthreatening posture and smiled patiently.

“Let him through. It’s not worth this.” The two of them stepped back to their posts and motioned for him to pass.

Waving his ring bound middle finger over his shoulder as he passed, Nereus entered the mage quarters of the fortress. There was a cluster of mages around a lyrium pedestal, seemingly in a trance. Each of them had a mage to their back watching them cautiously. They were in the Fade, doing something he couldn’t begin to fathom without joining them. There were more mages sitting around fires, practicing simple spells, reading scrolls, and engaged in quiet conversation.

“What do we have here?” A familiar voice called out from one of the stone columns. “I heard there was a Grey Warden recruit from the Circle. I did not think it would be you.”

A handsome older woman with thick white hair pulled into a tight bun was approaching from the column she’d been resting against. Her angular features were lined with age, but her eyes were sharp and her smile coy.

“It’s _so_ nice to hear how proud one of my fellows from the Circle feels about my upgrade.” Nereus teased, returning Wynne’s smile.

The old woman huffed with annoyance. “That is _hardly_ what I meant. I am simply surprised to see such a young mage being scouted for one of the most prestigious orders in the land.” She paused to grace him with a proud smile. “I’d heard your Harrowing was to take place in my absence. Congratulations on making it through. The Fade is a dangerous place.”

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Yes, I happen to know quite a _lot_ about the Fade. Can you imagine?”

The smile quickly dispersed as the elder mage crossed her arms under her voluminous breasts. “I see your nature has not improved since last we spoke. Such hubris at your age is unnecessary.”

“To be perfectly honest, it’s well deserved.” Nereus said coolly, removing the decorative ring from his finger and pocketing it once more. “I’d outstripped the Circle even _before_ my Harrowing. The Warden saw what I could do and decided to put me to better use than drooling over dusty parchments in the Circle.”

Wynne stared at him silently, her blue eyes accusing. “Is that how you see our work?”

It was one of the few times in his life that he’d felt ashamed. If it had been almost any other senior enchanter, he would have said something cruel and walked off. Wynne had what he’d come to think of as the “Grandmother Effect.” She could make any man feel guilty with just a look.

“I… no. I don’t, if you really want to know.” He admitted with a sigh, averting his gaze in an attempt to avoid feeling even more guilt.

She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and forced him to look back. She was giving him a small reassuring smile. “I know the path set by the Circle is not for everyone. Nor is it easy to follow.”

“It’s not for me.” He agreed quietly. He noticed a few other mages watching the two of them suspiciously and he frowned. “I’m… sure you’ve heard by now.”

She nodded affirmatively, regret etched into the lines of her face. “Word only reached a few days ago. Irving wrote to all of the senior enchanters. I’m sorry to hear about Jowan. I myself did not believe the rumors.”

Nereus chuckled darkly. “Neither did I. Look where that got me.”

Wynne squeezed his shoulder and pulled him closer so she could look up into his eyes. “You were _chosen_ to be a Grey Warden, Nereus. You’ll be fighting alongside the king. I’d say that’s not too shabby for someone just out of apprenticeship.”

“Not to mention someone who helped his idiot _blood mage_ of a best friend escape the Circle with no phylactery to trace him.” He sighed dramatically and cupped his hand over hers. She gave him a disapproving look and he shrugged. “All in all, you’re right. I’ve done quite well for myself.”

“Considering the circumstances, yes, you got lucky.” She agreed wearily.

He nodded with a despondent smile. “I certainly did. Whether I deserve it or not… well, I suppose only time will tell.”

Wynne’s thin eyebrows rose in disbelief. “It seems I stand corrected. You have _some_ humility after all.”

He laughed dismissively. “Only when I know someone’s _better_ than me. Which is rare, I might add.”

To his wonder, she joined in his laughter. “Such high praise! I suppose I should be flattered, considering your reputation.”

“You should!” He agreed jauntily. “I don’t go around telling just _anyone_ that sort of thing. You’re a rare woman, Wynne. I’m sure the army has benefited greatly from your skills. Have you faced darkspawn yet?”

The old woman nodded gravely. “Stragglers, yes – not the vast horde the scouts speak of. I wonder…” She’d turned away, but now she looked up at him from the corner of her eye. “How much do you know of the connection between the darkspawn and the Fade?”

Making a displeased face, he asked: “You mean what the Chantry says about it?” She nodded and he shrugged indifferently. “I know it all. Can’t say whether I believe any of it. All I know is this: the darkspawn are a threat. I’ve seen them and the Blight up close. Lucky me. That’s not something I want rampaging through my backyard. _That’s_ why I’m here. Well, and because I didn’t want to be killed or imprisoned.”

“How terribly responsible of you.” She said with a pleased smile. “I don’t think you were recruited because Duncan took pity on you. It sounds like he knew _exactly_ what he was doing with you.”

Nereus shrugged again. “ _Or_ I was a convenient recruit… wait, you know Duncan?”

The elder mage smiled cannily and imitated his airy shrug. “I knew him when he was a young man. I’ve seen him a few times since then. He’s a good man.”

Now he was beyond curious. She was acting positively crafty and clearly taking some kind of gratification from his prying. “When he was young?”

She laughed blithely in response to the keenness in his voice. “Oh yes. That was around the time he met Maric, if I recall correctly… oh, but I’m certain Duncan has more for you to do than talk to me.”

She patted him on the shoulder dismissively and started walking towards the main camp, passed the templars.

He was so shocked by the trickle of information she’d given him that he felt rooted to the spot, desperately reaching out to her as she walked away. “But-”

His plea was interrupted by yet another familiar voice. “Well, if it isn’t Nereus Amell. I’ve heard rumors that you broke my Harrowing record. Now you’re a Grey Warden to boot. I’m starting to feel left behind.”

His head whipped around to see a petite, blonde elven woman garbed in Circle robes. “El! What a surprise! I’d been wondering where they’d shipped you off to. Here I’d been thinking they’d finally gotten tired of you and sent you out to Orlais.”

Elowen Surana frowned reproachfully and glared up at him. “In your dreams. Hoping to get rid of your competition so easily?”

Nereus grinned cunningly. “Aren’t you the senior mage? I’m pleased to see you consider me your rival, Surana.”

Her frown deepened and her pale cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “You…” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes like she was trying to ward off a headache. When she opened them again she was the very essence of calm. “I didn’t want to start a fight. I wanted to say I’m sorry. About Jowan.”

“I thought Irving only told the senior enchanters.” He said stonily, his heart sinking with dread.

Elowen shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing with the movement. “You know mages. Word spread within hours. Everyone knows.”

 _Shit_. Rumors were bound to spread out of control. It was impossible to tell what people would be saying by the time they returned to the Tower. Would they vilify him even more? Nereus wondered what his part in the rumors would be. It didn’t take much to get the templars involved. Even if he _was_ going to be a Grey Warden by the time things got to that point, who knew when the Chantry might decide to overstep their bounds.

He ran a nervous hand through his hair, loose around his crown and braided in the back. How could he counter the gossip that was already spreading? That certainly explained the odd looks he’d been getting from the other mages in the camp.

“Nereus.” Elowen was trying for his attention, but he couldn’t focus. His mind felt foggy and unease was crawling up his spine with tiny pinching claws.

 _Where is this feeling coming from?_ He wasn’t a slow thinker normally. There _had_ to be something else at work. It wasn’t in him to be so on edge. Was it?

She was still talking, but he didn’t care about her words. They weren’t important. He closed his eyes, focusing on the creeping feeling of dread that had seeped into his bones. It was almost like there was a red string reaching out to him, tangling through the camp back to its source. It pulled taut when he brought his attention to it, then it snapped.

He almost pitched forward, but Elowen reached for him and held him fast. He was panting now, his eyes blown wide and his mind clear. The fog had retreated.

“Damnit, Amell! What’s _with_ you?” Elowen groaned, helping him to stand straight again.

Nereus looked around the camp, trying to see if anyone was paying special attention to the two of them. No one seemed to be watching them now, but he could still feel _something_ watching.

“ _Hello?_ Can you hear me?”

He looked back to Elowen with sharp wintry blue eyes. “You didn’t feel that? None of it?”

She was watching him warily now. “Feel what? You just got this weird look in your eyes, like you weren’t here anymore…” Her eyes widened. “Wait. You don’t think…?”

“Well, well if it isn’t Irving’s star pupils.” A voice like shifting sand coursed its way to them.

The two of them turned to see a tall, thin man with a shaved head languorously strolling over to them. His dark, shark-like eyes were watching them with cruel interest as a razor edged smile pulled at his thin lips. His dark robes had flowing sleeves that hid his pale, spidery hands and the yards of fabric silenced his slithering steps.

His oily voice continued to pour from his lips as he came to a stop in front of the younger mages. “What a pleasant reunion this must be for the two of you. Although you both seem to be without your… _companions_. Tell me, Miss Surana, how _is_ Anders these days?”

Nereus saw the rage in the elf’s green eyes as she took a step toward the dark mage. He put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back to his side.

“What do you want, Uldred?” He snapped with authority. He wouldn’t let the creep get the better of him again.

Uldred turned his dark eyes to him, sliding his gaze along his armored form. “Nereus Amell. Do you think becoming a Grey Warden will raise you above suspicion? _Poor_ Jowan, caught dabbling in forbidden magic. I didn’t think he had it in him to escape. Imagine my surprise when I found out.”

Everything seemed to click into place as he spoke. Nereus clenched his fists and this time Elowen held _him_ back. “It was _you._ _You_ were the supposed ‘eyewitness’ weren’t you?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the insanity of it all. Uldred had always been an unknown as far as the other senior enchanters went. He was very vocal about his Libertarian views and was thus unpopular among the other enchanters. He had an uncanny reputation for discovering blood mages, however. That his discoveries always seemed to crop up whenever too many complaints about him rose to the surface… well, that was clearly no accident. Now Nereus believed he knew why.

The dark mage’s smile almost split his face, making him look even more shark-like. “I’ve always thought you were a clever one, Amell. I couldn’t have expected Jowan would go to you for help. I’d hoped his actions might spur you into investigating earlier, perhaps sparking your curiosity as well… Alas, his usefulness was spent by the time you were Harrowed.”

The explanation was like a slap in the face. Nereus looked at him with disgust in his eyes and horror coiling cold in his gut. “You… you used him to get to _me_?”

Cold black eyes watched him impassively. “I had greater goals beyond such middling talent. My intent was that he would be the gateway, opening my access to the greater power you contained. I’d hoped that our similar views might one day make us allies…”

Nereus snorted irreverently and threw Elowen’s hand off. “You think we’re alike? You’re a vile, miserable little cur. I’m _nothing_ like you.”

Uldred straightened when Nereus got up in his face. He didn’t recoil and he didn’t look away. He simply looked down his nose at the other man, his smile still in place. “You don’t believe in the Chantry’s law any more than I do. You _know_ we deserve to throw off their superstitious yoke so we may flourish under our own power! You _do_ want power, do you not? A mutual ‘friend’ of ours had been _very_ talkative about your ambitions.”

It was all he could do not to back down. There was only one person who could possibly know anything about his desires. If Uldred was truly what he believed him to be, it would stand to reason that he’d have such “friends” on the other side.

Instead of wilting under the unspoken threat, he grinned, exposing his teeth threateningly. “I don’t care what our ‘friend’ said, Uldred. _I’m_ not a blood mage. I’m not so weak that I seek the power of another.”

He was so close to him; it would be so easy to simply lay a hand on him and _push_ that spark of mana into him… he could delay it, he was sure of it. Wait a few hours until he heard the explosion on the far end of camp, turn to watch the blood and bone rain down on the ancient ruins…

Elowen was pulling on his arm again, forcing him to take a few steps away from the dark mage. His grin shriveled to a grimace as he glared at the other man with wintry eyes.

Uldred stood tall and dark with his hands clasped tightly beneath the robes he wore. “You should leave.”

“Who’s to make me?” He hissed indignantly. “Maybe I could have a nice talk with those templars on the way out, hm? Tell them about that strange, _red_ magic I felt just before you walked up.”

The elven woman’s fingers dug into his arm and he looked down into her frightened green eyes. She shook her head imperceptibly and he turned back to see Uldred’s brown eyes lit with invisible fire.

“Or _I_ could have a word with them,” Uldred said icily, towering over the two of them as he stepped into their space, forcing them to take another step back. “You’re the one who allowed a blood mage to escape, Nereus Amell. I’m a senior enchanter who has been _very_ helpful with the war effort. If I told them you were a fugitive from the Circle, trying to hide within the ranks of the Grey Wardens… who do you think they would believe?”

Nereus could already see it playing out in his mind. The templars, influenced or not, would turn on him at Uldred’s word. Especially after his little display earlier. It wouldn’t take much to convince them when they were already inclined to dislike him. If they were especially quiet about it, they’d be able to take him far away from where Duncan would notice and easily dispose of him. There were a lot of cliffs with sharp rocks at the bottom around Ostagar.

As much as it pained him to do so, he looked away from Uldred and meekly stared at the ground. “I should go.”

“Yes,” Uldred’s slick voice susurrated gently, promisingly. “You should. Do be careful in the battle tonight. One never knows what might transpire.”

As he slowly trudged away from the man he was quite convinced was a blood mage, he was aware that Elowen hadn’t released his arm and was walking with him. He looked down at her and noticed that she was rigid with fear and her whole body was shaking. He stopped walking before they were too close to the templars and shook his arm from her grasp.

“El,” he said quietly, looking over his shoulder to see if Uldred was watching. The other mage was gone and no matter where he looked, he did not see his shadowy form. _That_ couldn’t be a good sign. He gripped the elven woman’s chin in his hand and forced her to look up. “El, I want you to find Wynne and stick to her like a templar on lyrium.”

Her green eyes sharpened dramatically and flicked between him and the templars nearby. He smiled. “Good, you’re paying attention.” He released his hold on her and exhaled, running his hand through his hair again as he looked about in agitation. “This is bad.”

“No shit, Amell. And you just made it worse.” She accused in a whisper.

He made a perplexed face and looked down at her. “ _Me_? I think you already _had_ a problem before I got here.”

“You’re damn right I did. And I was doing my best to _avoid_ said problem. But you, you’re like-” She threw her arms up in the air exasperatedly. “Like a _magnet_! A trouble magnet!”

“You _knew_ about that freak?” He gasped angrily. “Why hasn’t he died in a magic induced ‘accident’ yet?!”

She shushed him, slapping at his chest belligerently and eying the templars fearfully. “You flaming imbecile! Have you no concept of subtlety?”

“Not when I’m being threatened by the _blood mage_ that turned my best friend into a monster just to get at me!” Their argument was one of hissing whispers and aggravated hand gestures. The templars couldn’t hear them, but they could certainly see them if they’d take the time to turn around.

Nereus pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, doing his best to calm down. The incident with Jowan had shaken him more than he’d let on. At the time, he’d done his best to shove the betrayal (both his and Jowan’s) out of his mind and focus on the new event in his life: joining the Grey Wardens. Everything else had happened so quickly afterward that it had made it easier to avoid confronting his feelings on the matter. Now it was all being thrown in his face, the answers he’d craved before now felt cold and empty in his mind.

“Nereus…” Elowen said softly, tossing aside her ire as well. “I didn’t know all of… that. I just suspected Uldred was…” She sighed and her shoulders sagged under the weight of the problem. “I don’t have proof. No one does. He’s exposed more blood mages than anyone in recent years. Our word means nothing.”

He nodded slowly and looked back to the mages working their magic in the Fade. _How many of them belong to Uldred,_ he wondered. Did it even matter? He couldn’t guess the blood mage’s plan. He’d clearly been building to something over the years and exposing his apprentices had evidently been a part of the game.

“It doesn’t matter.” He said flatly, looking down at Elowen. “I don’t really belong here anymore, do I? I’m never going back. He’s your problem now.”

“What?” She panted weakly, as if he’d struck her. “Look, I’m sorry I got angry, I was just-”

“Did you actually think I had a plan?” He asked cynically, choking down a mocking laugh. “Stay with Wynne. If he tries anything, at least she’ll be able to keep you alive long enough to escape.”

“Nereus, please-”

He held up a hand to stop her, looking down with a jaded expression. “Watch yourself, Surana. I have to go.”

Without giving her a chance to respond, he strode past the templars, ignoring their irritated comments as he joined the traffic in Ostagar. He wanted to be as far from the Circle as possible and the edge of Ferelden wasn’t far enough.

* * *

 

Nereus didn’t know where he was going yet. He just needed to be away from the influence of magic and templars. He strode passed the brightly colored tents and started up one of the ramps leading to the eastern section of the ruins. There seemed to be less people running through the area, so it seemed like a good idea. He moved beyond the occupied sections of the ruin and went left, hoping to find a place bereft of people.

As he turned a corner around a crumbling stone wall, he nearly collided with a young elven servant.

“My apologies!” The elven man cried in alarm, fumbling with the wrapped package in his arms. “I didn’t see you, ser. I should be more careful.”

Nereus looked down at the frantic elf and smiled disarmingly. “It’s no trouble. The fault is mine.”

The elf was clearly relieved. “That’s kind of you to say so. I’m sorry, but I’m in a bit of a hurry. Is there something you needed?”

The mage gave the servant a quick look over and once again noticed the package he carried. It was lengthy, but not bulky, and the leather wrapping implied it was a weapon. The young man was clearly a servant, not a fighter, so it was likely he was delivering the sword to someone else.

“You’re the delivery boy, aren’t you?” He asked affably, motioning towards the package.

The elf nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I deliver messages around camp… Oh, wait! Are you the one I’m supposed to give Ser Garlen’s sword to?”

 _Sure, why not?_ Nereus smiled graciously. “Precisely so. I was hoping you were the right elf. There are just so many of you running around.”

The servant was already holding the leather bound sword out and Nereus carefully took it in hand. “Er, yes. What a relief, I thought I’d forgotten...” He really did look relieved to be handing the sword off to someone else. “You really saved me from the switch for sure! I’d best get back to my duties again before I get in more trouble. Thank you, ser.”

“Oh, it’s no problem.” The crafty mage said, watching the young man run off. He unveiled the grey iron longsword and smiled. “Hmm… this should make a fine replacement for Maiara’s blade. The smiths here aren’t too bad.”

He almost felt bad about taking it from the elf, but he was sure Ser Garlen wouldn’t mind. Besides, he needed some kind of a bargaining chip with the elven recruit. If he showed her that he was looking out for the whole team, perhaps she’d be less hostile.

Tucking the package under his arm, he continued on his way to the outer edge of the ruins. He still had quite a bit of exploring to do, after all.

* * *

 

After getting his fill of the eastern portion of Ostagar, Nereus decided to finish up in the southwest. He’d have to pass the Circle encampment again, but as long as he didn’t see Uldred or the templars he figured he’d be fine.

As he steered clear of the Tranquil man outside of the camp, he couldn’t help but notice a makeshift shop. There was a single man running the place, but Nereus figured it might be a good opportunity to relieve himself of unnecessary items. Since leaving the Tower, he’d managed to come across quite a bit of loose items and coin. He’d known at the time that he might be able to use the goods to sell or even to bribe others. Now was as good a time as any to rid himself of the extra baggage.

He spent some time bartering with the man over some pieces, but eventually decided he’d gotten the better deal and left with a lighter pack and a heavier purse. If he was lucky, he’d be able to afford some nice commissioned pieces further down the line. Surely the Grey Wardens had their choice of smiths and craftsmen, after all.

Continuing into the southwestern section of Ostagar, he saw a hall to his left was retrofitted as a war room of some kind. There were some servants readying the area for something, so he steered clear of them, instead choosing to investigate a room to his right.

As he entered the separate hall, he couldn’t help but overhear voices further in. Slowing his steps, he observed a mage arguing with an armored man. He spotted a large unguarded chest across from the two men and decided it might be worth waiting them out to get to it.

“What is it now?” The mage whined irritably. Nereus couldn’t help but move a little closer when he recognized the man’s voice. “Haven’t the Grey Wardens asked more than enough of the Circle?”

 _Grey Warden?_ He took another look at the armored man, who was doing his best to smile reassuringly at the angry mage. He supposed that might be the junior Warden that Duncan had mentioned.

“I simply came to deliver a message from the revered mother, ser mage.” The young man’s tongue-in-cheek tone of voice made Nereus smile. “She desires your presence.”

The mage huffed crossly. “What her Reverence ‘desires’ is of no concern to me! I am busy helping the Grey Wardens – by the _king’s_ orders, I might add!”

The Warden – _what was his name?_ – obviously wasn’t good at holding back. “Should I have asked her to write a note?”

“Tell her I will _not_ be harassed in this manner!” Someone clearly didn’t have a sense of humor.

Alistair – _that was the name!_ – rolled his eyes. “ _Yes_. _I_ was harassing _you_ by delivering a _message_. Brilliant observation!”

“Your _glibness_ does you no credit.” Was the simmering reply.

“Here I thought we were getting along _so_ well.” Alistair lamented mockingly. “I was even going to name one of my children after you… the _grumpy one_.”

“ _Enough!”_ The mage threw his hands up in frustration. “I will speak to the woman if I must! Get out of my way, _fool_!”

Nereus was casually approaching now and the man roughly pushed passed him just in time for Nereus to recognize him. He watched the other mage leave, stomping his feet like a child, then turned to smile awkwardly at Alistair. Now that he was closer, he wondered if he may have seen the young man some time before. He was very striking, with stylish golden hair, warm brown eyes, tanned skin, and an easy smile.

“You know,” Alistair said, aiming a smile at Nereus as he turned his attention to him. “One good thing about the Blight is how it brings people _together_.”

“I know _exactly_ what you mean.” Nereus replied delightedly, very much enjoying the scathing sense of humor the other man employed.

Alistair grinned receptively. “It’s like a party! We could all stand in a circle and hold hands.” A deep – and very attractive – chuckled rolled out from his chest. “ _That_ would give the darkspawn something to think about!”

Nereus joined in the Warden’s laughter. “You’ve got _quite_ the imagination!”

“Don’t be too surprised, but I get that a _lot_.” He seemed to gauge his appearance during their exchange and eyed him inquisitively. “Wait, we haven’t met, have we? I don’t suppose you happen to be another mage?”

He jiggled the heartwood staff in his right hand. “Did the staff give me away again?”

“Well, it certainly wasn’t your lack of robes. Here I was hoping you _maybe_ just preferred fighting with a quarterstaff.” He sighed dramatically. “That’ll teach me to get my hopes up.”

“You’re out of luck, it seems. I am, in fact a mage.” Nereus said mournfully, as if he were delivering the most dreadful news imaginable.

Alistair let another sigh part his lips. “And here I thought I’d been yelled at by _every_ mage in camp.”

Nereus smiled obligingly. “I can still make that happen, if you’d like.”

“You _know_ …” He said, almost as if he were considering it. “Nah, never mind. I think I can go without it just this once.”

“I’m happy to accommodate if you ever feel the need to be bombarded by obscenities.” He said gleefully, finishing with a wolfish grin. “I’ve been told I have _quite_ the wicked tongue.”

The young man’s laugh was a little more timid this time around. “I’ll keep that in mind. Actually, I’m really going to pretend I didn’t just hear that.”

The mage shrugged modestly. “Your loss… You wouldn’t happen to be Alistair, would you?”

“Oh!” He jumped to attention and nodded affirmatively. “You’re one of Duncan’s new recruits!”

Bowing superfluously, he announced: “Nereus Amell. Formerly of the Circle of Magi and _very_ pleased to be rid of it.”

Alistair smiled tentatively and held out a hand to shake. “Glad to meet you, Nereus. I suppose I’ll be meeting with the other three soon?”

Accepting the gesture, Nereus nodded. “Supposedly, yes. Duncan told us all to meet back at camp soon.”

“Of course.” Alistair acknowledged, releasing his hand a moment later. “As the junior member of the order, I’ll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining.”

Nereus wiggled his eyebrows for comedic effect. “Sounds mysterious and exciting!”

“It _is!”_ Alistair agreed, laughing in response to the mage’s expression. “So, I’m curious. Have you ever actually encountered darkspawn before?”

“Surprisingly, yes.” He replied lightly, leaning on his staff. “It was in the Brecilian Forest. It was… unsettling, to say the least.”

The Warden nodded in understanding. “That’s one way to put it. When I fought my first one, I wasn’t prepared for how _monstrous_ it was. I _can’t_ say I’m looking forward to encountering another.” He grimaced at the thought of it and shrugged. “Anyhow, whenever you’re ready, let’s head back to Duncan. I imagine he’s eager to get things started.”

Nereus looked back to the massive white chest and wondered if he should return later. Alistair didn’t seem like the type to overlook minor criminal activities, so he decided later would be best.

Leading the way at first, he settled in to walk beside Alistair as they left the southwest ruins. He liked the other man so far, finding his affable sense of humor and cheerful nature very refreshing. He could tell they wouldn’t be seeing eye-to-eye on some grounds, so he’d might as well figure out what those things might be. For starters…

“So what was that argument with Hadley about?” He asked casually, bringing up the other mage’s name as a starting point.

Alistair shot him a slightly alarmed look. “Please don’t tell me he’s a friend of yours and you’re going to extract vengeance in his name.”

He laughed flippantly and waved the concern away. “Not even a little bit. He’s always been one of Uldred’s lapdogs.” He practically spat the dark mage’s name out. “The Circle is better without him. So if something were to happen during the battle… well, no loss there.”

“Riiight, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear _that_ either.” Alistair said with feigned cheer. “Anyway, as I’m sure you know, the Circle is here at the king’s request. As you can imagine, the Chantry doesn’t like _that_ one bit. They just _love_ letting the mages know how unwelcome they are.”

“Sounds like the Chantry I know…” He mumbled resignedly.

“Doesn’t it just?” Alistair agreed quickly. “Well, it puts _me_ in a bit of an awkward position because… I was once a templar.”

The hesitancy he displayed over the confession was a good sign. Clearly he hadn’t been happy in the position. That would make things easier between the two of them. “That… _would_ be awkward then, wouldn’t it? I wasn’t aware that templars could join the Wardens.”

Alistair shrugged, causing the splintmail armor to creak. “Well, to be perfectly honest, I never completed my vows. Duncan recruited me from right under their noses.” He chuckled lightly at the reflection. “The revered mother was _furious_! I’m lucky Duncan got to me when he did.”

“Not the life for you, then?” He asked candidly. “You don’t strike me as having the right temperament for a templar. You’re _far_ too funny.”

The young Warden laughed amenably. “I know, right? They never appreciated my humor there. It was always ‘watch your mouth!’ or ‘Maker help me, if I hear that joke _one more time_ ’ and so on. Ah, good times.”

Chuckling amiably, Nereus turned the conversation back to the original topic. “So, the revered mother picked you out of _all_ of the errand boys to send a message.”

Alistair sighed again. “Yeah, I’m sure she meant it as an insult. He picked _right_ up on that.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “I never would have agreed to deliver it, but Duncan says we’re all to cooperate and get along. _Apparently_ , they didn’t get the same speech.”

“To be fair, it’s kind of a boring speech. Telling a mage to get along with the people who oppress them is a bit… well, I’m sure _you_ know.” Not that he minded Hadley being needled a bit. He may have taken a small amount of pleasure over Alistair’s masterful insults.

“I suppose I do.” He agreed genially. “Well, we should probably make sure the others have made it back to Duncan. The Joining is to take place tonight, so we don’t have much time.”

They were just passing the mage quarters on their walk. Nereus led their trajectory a little further around the section than necessary. “Let’s not waste any more, then. I’m looking forward to traveling with you, Alistair.”

The other man looked genuinely shocked. “You are? Huh… that’s a switch.”

“Don’t be so down on yourself!” The mage cheered optimistically. “I’m sure _someone_ in our merry band will be charmed by your awkward composure.”

“You know _just_ what to say, don’t you?” Alistair replied leadenly.

“I’m a helper.”

“I’m sure you are.” The blonde replied, shaking his head with a small smile. “Well, lead on.” 

* * *

 

They’d started making the rounds through the camp, looking to find the others before returning to Duncan as well. They’d found Daveth and Jory and the two men had quickly departed for camp. Daveth had informed them that Maiara was already there and that the reason _he_ wasn’t there was because she’d told him to leave. He hadn’t wanted to test her sword, so he’d left. That left Leif and Adora to be brought in. They still had a few hours before noon, but Nereus figured it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get started early.

They were about to head over to the bridge to seek them out when Nereus caught sight of Adora with Lady at her side.

Nereus nudged Alistair’s side with his elbow. “As luck would have it, here’s one of the two we’re looking for.” He waved his staff in the air in an attempt to grab her attention. “Adora!”

Alistair’s eyes narrowed as he looked in the direction the mage had pointed. “What? That girl…”

“We picked her up in Highever. Real sad tale, that one.” He said lowly, waving his arm until she noticed him. “You wouldn’t _believe_ what we had to go through. We can get into that later, though. Bringing it up only upsets her.”

The young Warden floundered between questioning him and focusing on the approaching girl. “But you just- _Heeeeey_!”

Adora stared up at the two of them questioningly, her storm gray eyes flickering between them. “Oh, it’s you… I never did get your name, ser.”

“Right, sorry about that.” The blonde mumbled quietly, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I’m Alistair. And you’re… one of the recruits.”

Nereus looked from one to the other. “Wait, you two already met?”

“It was brief.” Adora explained quickly, one of her hands dropping to touch her mabari’s attentive ears. “I had no idea you were the Grey Warden that Duncan spoke of. I expected someone, well, older, to be quite honest.”

“It’s partly my fault.” Alistair expounded. “I should have recognized you earlier, I’m sorry.”

Adora smiled engagingly. “How could you recognize me?”

“Duncan, he sent word. About all of you, in fact. I mean, no descriptions.” The nervous blonde said, speaking hurriedly. “Just names and accounts of your talents. He spoke very highly of you, my lady. Of both of you. All of you, that is.”

“Isn’t this sweet?” Nereus crooned teasingly. “He’s getting all _flustered_ and everything. I envy your ability to affect him in such a way.”

Adora gave him a surprisingly blank look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Before he could enlighten them with his keen observations, the Warden attempted to change the subject on his own. “You know, it just occurred to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why that is?”

 _Opportunities always find a way of presenting themselves._ Nereus grinned slyly. “You _want_ more women in the Wardens, do you?”

His insinuation clearly took some time to sink in as Alistair shrugged and spoke in his defense.

“Would that be so bad? Women are just as likely to be incredible warriors and I’m sure they’d be a great asset to the Grey Wardens.” Understanding dawned as he rambled on, his voice dropping quietly in the end. “It’s not as if I’m some drooling lecher or anything. Please stop looking at me like that.”

Adora seemed just as shocked that the conversation had derailed so quickly. “I wasn’t-”

“Moving on!” Nereus interrupted cheerfully, leaving the dialogue amusingly awkward between the two of them. “I’d like to get this party started, wouldn’t you? The Joining awaits!”

Clearly mortified by his inattentiveness, Alistair followed along silently while Adora dropped behind both men, preferring to keep the company of her hound instead. Lady panted happily; unaware of the awkward exchange between her mistress and their new companion.

Nereus kept his eyes searching the crowd for the short, but sturdy stature of the dwarf. It was an unexpectedly difficult effort. After some time searching, he heard Alistair speaking up behind him.

“So, you didn’t have a dog earlier,” his friendly voice carried softly.

“No, I didn’t.” Adora admitted just as quietly. “I imagine she got bored of waiting for me. Or maybe Duncan sent her to find me.”

It was kind of endearing that they were speaking so unobtrusively behind him, as if they didn’t want him to overhear and interrupt.

“Did you get any of that peace and quiet you were hoping for?” Alistair asked concernedly.

There was a sweet giggle from the girl that made Nereus smile.

“I did,” she said gently. “Thank you, Alistair.”

He could only imagine the charming grin the blonde man must have on his handsome face as he said, “You’re very welcome, Adora.”

Oh, he could already tell the two of them would be insufferable, given enough time together. Not that he didn’t want her to be happy, of course. She deserved it; surely, after the tragedy she’d suffered.

Still, the thought of the two of them being so blissful and loveable together might be a little too much for him to handle. How was he supposed to maintain a cold and calculating approach with the two of them being so good-natured and _nice_? They’d block his every attempt to gain an advantage if they thought his actions reprehensible in the least. He was already going to have that issue with Leif and possibly Maiara. He was beginning to feel outnumbered.

He was extremely grateful to finally spot Leif on another round passed the infirmary. It seemed he’d already set his mind to returning to camp, as well. He’d joined them with only a transitory greeting to Alistair, instead settling himself between the Warden and Adora. Nereus knew the dwarf only held familial feelings for the girl, but he couldn’t help but smile in response to Leif’s protective nature. Hopefully it would work in his favor.

* * *

 

When they’d all gathered around the fire at camp, Duncan explained exactly what they’d be doing.

“You’ll be heading into the Korcari Wilds to perform two tasks.” He said assertively, looking at them all in turn as he spoke. “The first is to obtain six vials of darkspawn blood. That’s one for each of you.”

Nereus frowned indiscernibly. “Wait a second. Why didn’t we do this back in the forest?”

“Maybe we need it to be fresh,” Leif supplied brusquely. “What’s it matter?”

The mage shrugged. “I’d simply like to know the purpose behind such a task.”

Duncan chuckled benignly, taking no offense to the question on his order. “Of course. You must work together to collect the components, however. It’s as much a part of the Joining as what comes after.”

“Oh, goody. Teamwork exercises. I know how this goes.” Nereus said dryly.

Adora sharply prodded his side and he flinched.

“I mean, yay, teamwork!” He said with mock delight.

Duncan smiled in amusement and continued. “As for the second task, there was once a Grey Warden archive in the Wilds. It was abandoned long ago when we could no longer afford to maintain such remote outposts.” He paused to make sure they were all still paying attention. “It has recently come to our attention that some scrolls have been left behind, magically sealed to protect them. Alistair, I want you to retrieve these scrolls if you can.”

The junior Warden straightened his posture and nodded in accordance. “Scrolls, got it.”

“What sort of scrolls are these?” Maiara asked apprehensively. “Are they important to the Joining?”

“In a sense,” Duncan allowed. “They’re old treaties, if you’re curious. Promises of support made to the Grey Wardens long ago.”

“Have the Wardens not been receiving enough support?” Adora asked inquisitively.

“They were once considered only formalities.” Duncan replied calmly. “With so many having forgotten their commitments to us, I suspect it may be a good idea to have something to remind them with.”

“Okay, so darkspawn blood and ancient treaties,” Nereus recounted. “I don’t presume you have a map to this buried treasure of yours?”

“Alistair will guide you to the area you need to search,” the older Warden informed them. “It will likely be an overgrown ruin by now, tenacious as the wildlife is, but the seals should remain intact. Only a Grey Warden can unlock the seal.”

Nereus nodded affirmatively. “Alright then. I suppose we’re good to go. Any more questions?”

He received a few scornful looks, but other than that, no one seemed intent on asking any more of their commander. Taking this as consent to send them on their way, Duncan turned to face Alistair.

“Watch over your charges, Alistair. Return quickly and safely.” He clasped the younger man’s shoulder supportively. “I wish to complete the Joining before the battle begins.”

“We’ll make it back in time.” The junior Warden said stoically.

Duncan nodded to him and turned to face the whole group once more. “Then may the Maker watch over your path. I will see you when you return.”

Placed in the lead, Alistair directed them towards the massive gate that would grant them passage into the Korcari Wilds.

Nereus dropped back until he was walking beside Maiara. Earlier he’d added the bundle of Ser Garlen’s sword to his back and it had added quite the awkward weight to his cache. Now that he was back with his main party, he figured he’d pass it on to her. Now all he had to do was _give_ it to her. Somehow.

“Maiara, if I may-”

“You may not.” She cut him off curtly, quickening her pace to dislodge him from her presence.

Nereus huffed a sigh and caught up with her. “Look, I wanted to… I wanted to say I’m _sorry_. For being, well, me.”

She eyed him warily, her large, angular eyes guarded. “Why?”

He did his best to look truly contrite. “Because we’re going to be fighting together? That requires some amount of trust in order to achieve true battle synergy. I don’t intend on being a hindrance. I _want_ us to work together. This requires some humility on my end and some allowance of trust on yours.”

The elf continued to watch him with some sense of hesitancy. The gate was opening before them, letting in the sounds of the Wilds that had previously been held back by the barrier. They passed through, neither of them sharing a word before the gate closed behind them with a thud.

Nereus began to wonder if she would give in or if he’d wasted his breath. Then she sighed and nodded, giving him her full attention.

“Alright.”

The mage smiled tactfully. “In that case, I have something for you.”

He presented it as a gift, a start to mend the breach between them. She took the sword with only the slightest misgiving, unwrapping it and observing it in the reflective light from the overcast sky. After giving it a good look over, she swung it out at the bushes to her left, alarming Nereus when she gored a wolf that had crept up on them.

The animal split in two, falling wetly to the mossy ground as a chorus of snarls and howls rang out across the Wilds. Glowing eyes peered out from the bushes as their group was surrounded by the crafty canines.

Nereus hadn’t even heard the wolves approaching in the shadows. Maiara turned to look back at him with a knowing smile, her large eyes glittering with amusement.

“This is acceptable.” She said shortly before turning to engage the newly revealed enemy.

He laughed quietly, watching as the rest of the group mobilized to take on the threat. Their time in the Wilds was already off to a good start. Now to keep busy until nightfall.

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally getting some momentum back! I don't plan on spending a bunch of time in the Wilds. The battle at Ostagar is a little more front and center. So it'll only be one chapter for the darkspawn infested swamp.


	21. Aggressive Opposition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dealing with darkspawn in the Korcari Wilds is not a fun experience.

\-------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 9th

\-------------------------

 

* * *

 

Maiara

 

* * *

 

 

 

Wolves. That had been a surprise. At first she’d feared the sounds from the brush might have been darkspawn. It was a relief for the enemy to be simple wolves. It was strange that the creatures had gone out of their way to ambush them. Had they been waiting for someone from Ostagar to enter the Wilds unawares? Typically wolves would leave a large enough group alone and move on. Something must be very wrong for them to throw themselves at the group of recruits.

Maiara cleaned her new blade as her companions assessed any damage done during the fight. It had been a small pack of wolves, but they’d been evenly matched. It hadn’t taken much to bring the creatures down, especially since Maiara herself had ruined the ambush.

The sword Nereus had gifted her was more suitable than the replacement she’d been carrying around since losing her original weapon in the forest ruins. He must have spent a decent amount of coin or talked someone into a deal in order to have acquired it. It was surprisingly thoughtful of the smart mouth mage.

_He seems sincere enough in his efforts at unity._

He’d already shown he was pleasant enough around Adora and occasionally around Leif. The only person he seemed to be entirely at peace with was Duncan. That had struck her as odd, as the Warden didn’t come off as someone who would let such sarcastic behavior slide. She clearly didn’t know him as well as Nereus, though, and she didn’t want to take the time.

Now they were with this new Grey Warden, the young man Alistair. He was barely out of boyhood as far as she could tell. He had to be younger than her by quite a few years. It was strange to see someone so young in command of so many. He seemed competent enough in battle, however. He’d shouted out orders as quickly as the wolves had come pouring out of the Wilds and he’d fronted the attack with his sword and shield.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad as far as greetings go!” He said jovially, looking down at the wolf carcasses with a smile. “They could have done with more bark and less bite, though. Like you! You’re _much_ better at greeting people, aren’t you?”

Lady barked cheerfully and trotted up to bump her head against the overly blithe human. Alistair reacted with a low chuckle and scratched at the hound’s ears.

“What a good dog!” He complimented her, vigorously rubbing her broad head. “By the way, what’s her name?”

“Lady,” Adora supplied pleasantly. “I’ve had her since we were both pups. She’s been a good friend for a long time.”

Maiara wondered if they’d be resting for long. She was eager to get going, but at the same time… there were quite a few wolves. Some of them had been dealt with so simply that their coats were mostly untouched. She was willing to bet she’d get decent coin for their pelts back at the fortress. They could be used for quite a bit. She’d gone hunting with Tamlen often enough that she could skin them quickly and easily.

“Wait, since you were _both_ pups? Don’t tell me you were once a dog!” Alistair joked, still playing with the warhound.

There seemed to be a moment of hesitation before Adora replied. “I’m sorry; it’s just something my dad used to say.”

The elf listened carefully to the others even as she started skinning the nearest wolf. They didn’t seem to notice what she was doing right away and it was always good to listen to others. There was much to learn from how people spoke to one another.

The older man, Jory, was afraid. “Maker’s breath, I didn’t expect wolves to just appear out of the blue like that! What if they’d been darkspawn?”

“What if they had been?” The licentious man, Daveth, was unexpectedly resolute. “We’d have killed ‘em just the same, I think.”

“So you say,” the human knight griped quietly. “I didn’t expect we’d be attacked right out of the gates. Didn’t some scouts pass through here? Do you suppose they were attacked like that?”

She was only halfway listening to those two now. They weren’t important and she was finished with the first wolf, rolling the skin up and tying it into a bundle. Onto the next.

“What’s she doing?” Leif was asking warily, clearly having noticed her actions.

Before she could answer, Nereus spoke. “Collecting the pelts, I’d imagine. Not a bad idea. Fur never goes out of fashion in Ferelden. We might want to take some instruction so we can be of use in the future, should we encounter more wicked wolves.”

“How can a wolf be wicked?” The dwarf asked skeptically.

She’d rolled three skins now and secured them in her pack. This time she cut in before the mage. “You’d be surprised how wicked a wolf can be. We speak of Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf, with both fear and respect. He has done much to earn both.”

Both mage and dwarf were watching her work now and she took care to show them how to deal with the skins.

“It’s more proper to string them up, but we don’t have the time and means to do so at the moment. So it’s a little incomplete in this way,” she lectured, pulling the skin away from the meat. “Still, we get something out of it, enough to sell. It’s quick and dirty, but it’s enough.”

With their aid, she was able to quickly move through the rest of the salvageable furs. They’d spent a decent amount of time at the practice, enough that there were some mumbles of complaint from the others.

“We should get a move on. We’ve got about eight hours of daylight left.” Alistair announced, looking out to the expanse of wilderness before them. “That’s enough to flush out some darkspawn, but I can’t be sure that’s enough to find this ruin and pick up those treaties.”

Maiara finished with the last of the skins, helping Leif and Nereus to store them in their packs in order to better share the burden. She wiped her bloody hands on the hides she could not salvage and rose to follow the Warden that led them.

“Lead on,” she said candidly, waving her hand.

For a moment, it seemed that Alistair frowned at her comment before turning his face away. Unsure if that was what she’d seen, she followed along with the other recruits as the young Warden led them deeper into the Wilds.

A strange sound scratched at the edge of her mind as she walked. The sun was rising higher into the sky now, but its true shape and light seemed unable to penetrate the haze around the ancient swamp. Mist crawled along the ground, swirling around their feet, while the barren skeletons of trees and decrepit bones of olden ruins clawed up at the overcast sky.

Her clan had visited the Wilds in the past, but not in recent times. There was a dim memory from her childhood, the time when clan Sabrae last walked the damp earth of the Korcari Wilds. Tales of the woman of many years had brought them into the shadow lands of the swamp. The clan had made it through the Wilds peacefully, as far as she recalled and there had indeed been a woman.

The People called her Asha’bellanar. The humans called her Flemeth. Either way, she was a living legend, a woman who had lived through centuries, immortal, and lurking in the haunted forest on the edge of the known world. To the humans she was a ghost story told to frighten children. To the Dalish, she was an honored figure in their history, always on the side of the People and guiding them when they were lost.

It was in this memory of long ago that a bargain was struck between the witch and her clan. Maiara did not know the specifics, but she remembered peeking out from the aravel with the other children to see the Keeper speaking with an old human woman. An agreement seemed to pass between them and the clan departed from the wet confines of the swamp.

Maiara had watched from the safety of the aravel as the battered hut overgrown with moss and vines slowly dwindled in the distance. The witch had watched them, her strange yellow eyes gleaming in the half light of the woods like a wolf’s. Before the view of the hut had disappeared, she’d fallen asleep to the gentle rocking of the aravel, dreaming of old women who turned into crows.

 

* * *

 

Adoracia

* * *

 

 

A trail of bodies greeted them around the bend from the wolves; human and darkspawn both. The humans were obviously a part of a scouting party from Ostagar and there were far more of them dead than the darkspawn. Further along what passed for a path in the swamp was a broken stone arch and a wagon burning to cinders. More bodies led the way.

Adoracia felt her stomach turn at the sight. They were carefully stepping around the mangled bodies, weapons drawn and ready – just in case. There was standing water nearby with another body floating lazily near the shore. It was as grisly a sight as any she’d seen. As much as she hated it, she looked at every face and thanked the Maker when she failed to recognize each one.

“Careful,” Nereus whispered lowly, his steps barely making a sound in the muck. “This looks recent. There may still be enemies nearby.”

They were approaching a broader section of the path, just before the ruins. One of the bodies moved and a low moan of pain sounded down the trail.

Alistair signaled for them to wait while he drew nearer to the body. When the man looked up, clearly alive, he gave the nod for them to join him.

“Who…?” The man rasped, barely able to get a word out. Recognition lit his eyes when he focused on Alistair. “Grey…Wardens…?”

“Well, he’s not half as dead as he looks, is he?” The Warden in question proclaimed carelessly.

“Surprisingly not.” Nereus concluded, kneeling down beside the man to inspect his injuries. His staff hovered over the man’s wounds, glowing faintly in the misty light. After a moment, he stepped back and nodded. “I’ve done what I can. You should be feeling a lot less like a corpse, my friend.”

The man sighed in relief. “Thank you, ser.”

He still struggled to rise on his own; Leif knelt to offer him aid and brought the man to his feet. He swayed unsteadily for a moment, clutching his side, before bracing himself.

“Can you tell us what happened here?” Leif asked concernedly.

The man nodded slowly, his eyes focusing on the dwarf. “My scouting band was attacked by darkspawn. They… they came out of the _ground_. Maker, it was horrible.” He clenched his teeth and his hand pressed against his side. A trickle of blood oozed from between his pallid fingers. “ _Please_. I… I have to get back to camp.”

“Damnit, Amell, I thought you healed this guy!” Leif growled, whirling to aim a glare at the mage.

Adora rushed to the man’s side to steady him when he started listing again. He was absolutely filthy. She wondered how long he’d been lying in the mud, bleeding and praying that the darkspawn wouldn’t come to finish him off.

“I said no such thing,” the mage huffed. “I only said that I’d done what I could. I’m not a healer. You’re lucky I accomplished as much as I did.”

Alistair interrupted their bickering. “I’ve got bandages in my pack. That should be enough for him to make it to the gate.”

After applying the field dressing, Alistair took the man’s weight from Adora and helped him to stand on his own. When he was sure the scout could take his own weight, he handed him a vial with a crimson liquid.

“This should help you enough to get back.” He said sternly, placing the draught into shaky hands. “Don’t take it unless you absolutely need to, or you’ll crash before you’re rescued. Got it?”

The man nodded his head a few times, taking the vial and holding it close. “Thank you. Maker bless you.”

“A moment, if you please,” Adoracia interjected, stopping the man from leaving right away. The man looked at her with eyes glazed in pain, but she persisted. “Your scouting party…. Did you know a man named Fergus? Fergus Cousland?”

His eyes blinked a few times as his brow wrinkled in thought. “I… yes, my lady. His was another group, sent deeper into the Wilds. We… we lost contact a few days ago. I’m sorry.”

Her heart thudded heavily in her chest as she stepped away, opening the road to him. “I see… thank you.” Her world was shrinking as she looked to the bodies strewn across the forest floor. Her words came out rehearsed and stilted. “Maker watch over you.”

They watched the man stumble back the way they’d traveled, his way unhindered by savage wolves and vicious darkspawn.

Adora wished she was going back with him. At the same time, she had the absurd urge to run off into the Wilds after her brother, venting her grief against the darkspawn until the mist and the swamp consumed her.

 _There is nothing left for me,_ she thought forlornly, staring out into the murky waters that lapped sluggishly against the muddy banks. _This war has taken everything_.

Faraway voices murmured behind her as she closed her eyes against the world.

“Cousland? Isn’t that-”

“Not the time-“

“Is she going to be alright?”

“She has to be.”

 _Come on, Adora Bell_ , her brother’s voice hummed gently in her mind. _Are you really surprised? You already failed me once. What’s one more time?_

She clenched her jaw against the doubt and tried to force it from her thoughts. _Fergus would_ never _say those things._ While she knew it in her heart, her mind was not so easily convinced. Was she not a failure in every way?

The voices continued to burst through her inner dialogue.

“-an entire patrol of seasoned men killed by darkspawn!” Fear.

“Calm down, Ser jory. We’ll be fine if we’re careful.” Reason.

“Those soldiers were careful and they were _still_ overwhelmed.” The older man’s voice warbled uneasily. “How many darkspawn can we slay? A dozen? A hundred? There’s an entire _army_ in this forest!”

“I don’t know about you, old man, but I can kill a hundred on my own.” Bravado. Or was it certainty that spoke?

 _You remember them. You’re not that far gone, girl_. Was that Nan’s voice she heard? The dead were making a community of her thoughts. _Use their names. Snap out of it._

Adoracia opened her eyes and the world snapped back into clarity. She could hear the water moving through the reeds, the crackle of the dying fire, smell the rotting bodies, and see the sun glaring red through the haze of clouds and smoke. Lady was licking the hand that hung limply at her side.

She turned around to observe the argumentative group of recruits. Nereus and Daveth were taking bets on how many darkspawn they could slay. Leif was shaking his head and trying to hide an amused smile. Maiara was glowering at Ser Jory as he whined and worried to Alistair.

“There _are_ darkspawn about, but we’re in no danger of walking into the bulk of the horde,” the Warden explained patiently, as if soothing a frightened child.

Ser Jory was not so easily lulled. “How do you know? I’m not a coward, but this is foolish and reckless. We should go back.”

Silence lay heavily among their party as all eyes turned to the aging knight. He noticed the shift and opened his mouth defensively only to be cut off.

“For one who protests cowardice, you sound awful craven to me.” Nereus said coolly, his bright blue eyes narrowing spitefully.

“Agreed,” Maiara snapped, her scowl never wavering. “I find it hard to believe this one was chosen to be a Grey Warden.”

“Now, see here-” Ser Jory stammered angrily.

“That’s enough!” Alistair barked; ending the knight’s reprisal before it could begin. “We are not going back until we have achieved our objective. Ser Jory, your courage is _not_ up for debate. You have been chosen to be part of an elite calling; act like it. As for the rest of you,” his amber glare skated across each of their faces. “You _will_ act with honor. We are not children competing against each other. In this, we are a team. Take it to heart and move on.”

Ser Jory looked thoroughly chagrined and easily fell in line with the others. Alistair turned back to look at Adora, his gaze stern before softening. He left Nereus to lead while he walked back to where Adora stood with her hound by her side.

She still hadn’t moved by the time he stood in front of her, looking down with the kindest expression on his boyish face.

“Are you going to be all right?” He asked cautiously, his eyes searching hers.

For a moment, all she could do was stare at him, wondering if she knew the answer to his question. He waited patiently, calmly, as she sorted things out.

Lady whined softly and bumped the hand she’d thoroughly saturated in doggy drool.

Eventually, she nodded. “Yes. I think so. I’m… sorry.”

He smiled encouragingly. “We could use you, you know. It’d be a shame to leave you behind.”

“Would you?” She asked listlessly, moving at last to follow their party. “Leave me behind?”

There was hesitation in his steps before he caught up to her. Without looking to see his expression, she heard him say one word.

“Never.”

Somehow, she smiled as they walked, quickly passing beyond the stone arch as they advanced on the rest of their party. Lady trotted happily at her side, occasionally darting ahead to sniff at something or bring her a “present.” The first few gifts were slimy stalks of elfroot, which she thanked Lady for before handing them to Nereus.

“ _Why?_ ” He gasped, staring at the plants with disgust.

Adoracia shrugged. “You’re a mage. Can’t you do something with them?”

“Of _course_ I can. What sort of an amateur do you take me for?” He protested in offense.

“Exactly the sort you’d expect.” Daveth retorted quickly.

That set the stage for a new round of lackadaisical banter between the two sharp tongued men.

The last gift of the day was a soggy ball of yarn. Adora had leaned down to retrieve the mystery item from Lady’s maw only to immediately drop the wet thing back to the ground.

“Ugh!” She squealed, shaking the liquid from her hand.

“What is it?” Leif asked anxiously, jogging over to investigate. He had flowers sticking out of his pack.

Adora pointed to the tangled ball of yarn that Lady was already picking up. “Where did she even _find_ such a thing?”

The dwarf narrowed his eyes before leaning back and laughing. “Who knows? I think she wants to play.”

Lady barked affirmatively, her normally booming vocals muffled by the yarn. Adora sighed and held her hand out obligingly. The hound plopped the ball into her hand and jumped back, wagging her stubby tail expectantly.

The redhead pitched the ball over the heads of her traveling companions and the mabari booked it, zigzagging between the others, startling Ser Jory, and chasing after the ball of yarn. Boyish laughter trailed back from Daveth and Nereus, the both of them quickly settling to needling the middle-aged knight before Alistair stomped over to break it up.

Moments later, Lady was already proudly cantering up with the ball in her mouth. Once more, she dutifully dropped it into her mistress’s hand before barking excitedly.

Adora smiled and shook her head before throwing the ball again. Her dog bounded after it elatedly, simple joy in every step.

It was always nice to feel needed.

* * *

 

Leif

* * *

 

 

 

“So, how _do_ you know?”

Alistair looked confused. “Know what?”

“Know that we won’t crash some darkspawn party or whatever.” Leif said, nodding his head out to the vastness of the Wilds. “They could be anywhere, right? Just crawl up outta the ground like nugs?”

“Nugs?” The Warden asked puzzled.

“You guys not have nugs up here or somethin’?” He was equally confused now.

Maiara exhaled loudly. “Pig-rabbits. They’re everywhere. They burrow in the ground to make nests.”

The elf’s description was strange, but seemed to serve its purpose. Alistair’s eyes lit in understanding. “Ohhhh, _that’s_ what they’re called! I’d always wondered. Cute little buggers, aren’t they?”

“Cute?” Leif was affronted, his mouth twisting.

“I’ve only seen pictures,” Nereus joined in. “They’re creepy, if you ask me. Have you seen their feet? They look like _hands_.”

“Do they?” Alistair prompted dubiously. “I can’t say I’ve-”

He stopped in his tracks, his words abandoned as he motioned for them to halt as well. Leif watched him carefully, noting how he didn’t seem to be listening so much as focusing. All he heard was the sounds of the swamp: insects mostly, the distant howl of a wolf, birds taking flight, the occasional echo of something dropping into the thick water.

“Darkspawn up ahead. Get ready.” The Warden instructed quietly, drawing his blade and hoisting his shield. “Maiara and Jory with me. Leif: attack from stealth. Nereus: stick with Adora and Daveth in the back. Lady: you make sure we don’t have any surprises.”

Leif couldn’t even _see_ the darkspawn, let alone hear them. Still, he did as he was directed; slipping into the shadows of the brush as their party cautiously crept forward. For several heartbeats, he saw and heard nothing. Then, a low, uncanny chuckle sounded from ahead. He spotted them then, the monstrous, twisted features just like those they’d fought in the Brecilian Forest.

The darkspawn savagely thrust their weapons into the air, jeering hatefully at the approaching warriors and sounding their horrendous battle cries. Several of them came charging down from the hill they’d been perched on and they ran straight towards Alistair and the other warriors. Their blades clashed and the battle began.

Leif circled around the engaged darkspawn before lashing out with his mace and dagger. The first, he aimed for the back of its armored leg, crushing the crudely crafted metal and snapping the leg within. Maiara cleaved the injured foe in two and he moved on to the next, slashing through a gap in the armor and providing a distraction for Alistair.

Arrows stuck into the back of his next target, missing him by inches. Friendly fire, he noted, turning to see more darkspawn cresting the hill, jagged bows in hand as they fired down on all in their path.

Grumbling to himself, he blended back into the dusky shadows and stealthily made his way up to the hill. Before he could reach the first of the darkspawn archers, he watched as the creature was quickly engulfed by piercing shards of ice and feathered by arrows. He leapt out of the way and looked back to see Nereus, Adora, and Daveth had turned their attention to the hilltop enemies.

“Sod it all!” He snarled, turning to deliver a strike from his mace. The frosted darkspawn shattered under the blow, causing bits of ‘spawnsicle to scatter across the hill.

At least his allies could see him now. Arrows flew well away from him, striking the darkspawn and causing the fiends to stumble.

As he drew closer to the nearest foe, the creature fumbled to drop its bow and take up a rusty axe in its stead.

“Is that it?” He grated indignantly, stepping up to face the grotesque creature.

It responded by hissing antagonistically, jerking forward and swinging its axe wildly.

Leif rolled out of the way, coming up behind the ‘spawn with his dagger slicing through its heel. His foe stumbled, catching itself on its own axe. Unflinching, it lurched to its feet and wrenched the axe out of its flesh, ignoring the black blood that spurted from the wound.

“Uhh…” He took a cautious step back from the encroaching darkspawn.

Its skeletal face was covered in sores and open wounds; its soulless eyes stared without mercy. The blasted creature sure knew how to pull off intimidation.

“I don’t suppose you’d accept an apology?” He baited tensely.

Its voice came out in a frenzied gurgle as it slashed out with its axe. Leif dodged it, bringing his dagger up to deflect it once before the blade was twisted from his grasp. He spit a curse, swiping out with the mace to throw its aim off.

“A little help here!” He cried, rolling to evade another blow from the axe.

The darkspawn raised the axe for another strike. Just before it brought the blade down, it lost its head. The body slowly registered its condition; the hands convulsing and releasing the weapon as the arms slowly dropped.

Leif scrambled out of the way just as the body collapsed, revealing Maiara on the other side. They stared at each other for a moment before Leif stood. Doing his best to suppress the shakiness from adrenaline, he nodded politely.

“Thanks,” he said quietly before shuffling off to find his dagger. He didn’t hear a reply from the stoic elf, but he was sure he’d caught her smilingly smugly.

 

* * *

Alistair had given them each an empty flask to collect the darkspawn blood. He’d urged them to be thorough and to fill the glass as much as possible before stoppering it. As they’d set about filling their individual flasks, Leif took the opportunity to search the bodies. For mindless monsters with no concept of society, they sure collected a lot of coin. Maybe they liked shiny things?

“Know this: All Grey Wardens can sense darkspawn. Whatever their cunning, I guarantee they won’t take us by surprise. That’s why I’m here.” Alistair said composedly, cleaning his blade before sheathing it.

“You see, ser knight?” Daveth chirped merrily, popping a cork into his full flask. “We might die, but we’ll be warned about it first.”

“That is… reassuring?” Ser Jory grumped, pulling his sword loose from a hurlock.

“That doesn’t mean I’m here to make this easy,” Alistair assured them with a pleasant grin. “So far, you’re all doing quite well. Go you. Now, let’s get a move on.”

With no wounded to account for, they marched on, deeper into the swamp. Leif was keeping his eyes peeled for more flowers in case he didn’t already have enough. There were actually more flowers than he would have expected in such a cold, wet place. Not just the ones he’d been instructed to find, but all sorts of things. He found himself wandering from the path more than a few times to investigate the colorful plants.

“My mother called those ‘little lanterns.’”

Leif jerked away from the red flower and whirled to see Nereus watching him with a small smile. He frowned and stomped away from the plant, returning to the main group without a word. He didn’t hear the mage approach him before and he definitely didn’t hear him follow him back, but there he was walking beside him with all the grace of the wind.

At first, he kept silent, unable to move passed the embarrassment of being caught unawares. Luckily he was saved by the guttural cry of darkspawn in the distance.

“Anyone else willing to bet there are more darkspawn ahead?” He asked offhandedly, brandishing his mace and dagger. He was already thinking a sword might be better for his fighting style.

“I don’t know; it’s so difficult to be sure. Alistair, are your Warden senses tingling yet?” Nereus continued lightly, quickening his steps.

“Here I was hoping we’d just skirt on by this band, but noooo.” The Warden lamented good-naturedly. “You’re all bloodthirsty, you know that?”

“You sayin’ _we’re_ the ones who wanted to collect this blood?” Leif retorted, glaring when he spotted the darkspawn further up.

They didn’t strike him as the type to set up a neat little camp. They’d clearly taken over an abandoned scout encampment or something and it looked like they were interrupting the foul creatures as they ransacked the contents of the tents and crates.

“Oh, let’s just deal with these ones and move on.” Alistair sighed, jogging ahead to lead the charge.

“Right behind you,” Leif muttered, following along the shadow of a cliff as he joined the fray.

The day was already feeling longer than necessary. At least he was getting some good action out of it.

* * *

 

Nereus

* * *

 

 

The darkspawn had been in much greater number than any they’d previously faced. Even the darkspawn in the tainted ruins of the Brecilian Forest had been less concentrated and they’d been coming up from a crack in the Deep Roads. There had to be at least two or three darkspawn per person and while they were a lot to handle, they were cut down with very little damage done to their own.

Nereus had stayed back with Adora and Daveth as ranged support for the others. His spells were able to slow - if not outright kill – most of the darkspawn he went against. The archers were able to do their fair share of hindering the evil creatures and he was sure the pair of them had killed at least three foes between them.

Their support helped the warriors that fought on the frontlines, allowing them to take out the bulk of the enemy with little to no difficulty. They’d worked more fluidly as a team, even if there were a few scrapes and bruises. No one seemed critically injured, so Nereus was able to close the minor wounds they’d obtained in the fight.

They’d looted the bodies and the camp only to discover it had belonged to a missionary of the Chantry, of all people. He wouldn’t have expected any Chantry folk to be capable or crazy enough to brave the Wilds, even to spread their prophet’s words to the Chasind barbarians. The man’s body was nowhere to be found, so he could only guess that he’d been killed elsewhere. There was no way he could have survived the Wilds with the darkspawn lurking about.

“I found somethin’ earlier,” Leif informed them upon their discovery. “There was a body, back where we found that scout. He had this letter on him. I think whoever made this camp was the one that wrote the letter.”

 _That_ was certainly of interest. “Well, what does it say?”

The dwarf passed him the waterlogged note and he was able to make out the message from the missionary to his son. It sounded like there was a supply cache somewhere in the Wilds. Obviously his son wouldn’t be needing it, being dead and all that.

The mage passed the note back. “Keep an eye out for these signs. We could use the supplies.”

“Are we seriously going to spend the extra time to find this?” Daveth asked incredulously. “Don’t we have a limited time out here? You know, _sunset._ ”

Nereus smiled craftily. “It’s like a treasure hunt! I’m sure he squirreled away something nice for surviving. I can’t _imagine_ what you lot will do if I run out of mana and you have to protect me from the darkspawn… I would surely mourn your _slow_ , _agonizing_ death if you were to get hurt and I was unable to heal you.”

“Treasure hunt it is!” The thief cried cheerfully. “Just in case, of course.”

“Just in case,” Nereus agreed.

Having cleared the camp, they moved on. Leif pointed out a few of the markers along the way and they followed what appeared to be a well-traveled route. It wasn’t refined enough to be a road, but it was certainly wide enough. There was water on both sides now, shallow and smelly with decaying plant life. The trees bent at strange angles and the ruins stuck out of the ground like gravestones.

“Darkspawn ahead,” Alistair warned, motioning for them to slow down. “This is going to happen a lot. Everyone did well during that last fight. I expect you to keep it up. You all know what to do, right?”

“Stab them and don’t get stabbed back?” Leif asked wryly.

“Explosions?” Nereus offered gleefully.

Alistair had already begun to agree to Leif’s answer and stuttered after Nereus. “Yes – wait, _what?_ ”

There was a dark, inhuman laugh from further up as a tall, armored darkspawn came into view. They’d been spotted.

“Now let’s see…” Nereus aimed his staff at the foes that so readily revealed themselves. Ice danced between his fingers and power thrummed through the staff in his hand. “Which one first?”

* * *

 

Once the darkspawn were dealt with, they came to a fork in the road. There hadn’t been any markers for a bit and it was difficult to see which way might lead them in the right direction. Daveth and Leif had climbed atop one of the more reasonable hills and tried to scout a path for them. There were ruins in almost every direction and any of them could be the one that held the Grey Warden treaties. There were ruins to the northeast that looked promising and the path looked like it might double back in some areas if that ended up being the wrong location.

Taking the northeastern road, they spotted more wildlife. Most of which didn’t look too good. The few deer they spotted looked thin and sickly. A few hares had been caught in traps and had gone unrecovered; now they lay bloody and festering in the traps with insects swarming about. There were still flowers and brush, but more were looking to be ravaged by disease. Few herbs stood out that would be worth the risk to acquire.

The whole scene made Nereus uneasy. He’d never seen a place look so… _sick._

“This is the effect of the Blight,” Alistair said quietly, noting their silent observation of the devastation around them. “Swamps aren’t pretty to begin with, but they’re not supposed to be like this. The Blight is a sickness born of darkness. It taints the land, destroying everything in its path. If it continues to spread, nothing will grow here. It will become a wasteland, poisoned and unfit for life.”

“Is this happening everywhere?” Maiara asked concernedly.

“Not everywhere,” the Warden informed them sadly.  “But where the darkspawn go, the Blight follows.”

“That’s why we have to stop it here, at Ostagar,” Nereus added, looking away from an animal corpse floating in the muddy water. “We can’t allow this to spread.”

“No, we cannot.” Alistair said solemnly. “That is why we must retrieve these treaties. If we fail… if Ostagar does not hold, we _will_ need allies. Ferelden will fall if the darkspawn continue unopposed.”

Nothing more needed to be said. They all knew the risks and there was no point in hiding behind ignorance. They had firsthand experience on what would happen if they weren’t up to the task before them. Not even Jory was whining.

As they moved towards drier land, Adora was the next to speak. “The last Blight lasted twelve years and it spread so far, even with the support of the Wardens.” She said, her small voice carrying easily in the eerie quiet. “Ferelden is alone. How many Grey Wardens are even here?”

Alistair was uncharacteristically silent.

“How many?” Adora pressed.

The Warden sighed, looking ahead as he answered. “About two dozen.”

“Maker’s balls…”

“Shit.”

Nereus didn’t feel like talking any more. He knew there weren’t many Grey Wardens in Ferelden, but only two dozen… Their addition would bring the ranks up to thirty, but that wasn’t much better. If the Grey Wardens were truly the only ones who could defeat the Archdemon, they were going to need more than skill and luck on their side.

They would need a miracle.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied when I said the stuff in the Wilds would be short. Or rather, I wanted it to be, but I can't stop myself sometimes. I didn't want to drag this out, so I'm going to try to finish it in the next chapter.  
> Also, sorry it took so long. I haven't been able to be on the laptop as much due to some back issues.


	22. House of Mist and Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of the trek through the Wilds.

\-------------------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 9th

\-------------------------------------

* * *

 

Adora

* * *

 

 

The ruins were a battleground between wolves and darkspawn. They’d spotted them up on the hill on their approach and debated on whether to wait or engage. In the end, they’d started picking off the darkspawn from afar.

Adora, Daveth, and Nereus started in with arrows and spells, disrupting the fight in front of the ruins. Some of the darkspawn left the wolves to charge down the hill towards the interlopers, but they didn’t get far. The warriors met them at the base of the hill, taking down the weakened foes with ease. The wolves disposed of the ones that continued taking hits from both fronts before running off into the Wilds. They were apparently less mad than the ones that greeted them at the forest’s edge.

It was almost routine now for everyone to go over the bodies. Coins here, a good piece of armor there to be saved or sold later. It was such an awful thing to do, stealing from the dead. Even if the dead were monsters.

Approaching the ruins, they saw there wasn’t much to find. It was unlikely that the area had been a part of the Grey Warden outpost they sought. They did find the body of the missionary, though. There was a letter, asking that his things be retrieved and taken to his wife in Redcliffe.

“Are we even going to Redcliffe?” Ser Jory asked skeptically when the letter was shared among them.

“It’s unlikely, but still possible,” Alistair admitted lightly. “We don’t know where the Blight may take us.”

“Are the Grey Wardens often messengers?” The knight asked, still unenthused.

“The Grey Wardens help people if given the chance. If we happen to pass through the area, there’s no harm in delivering such a thing.”

Adora stared down at the corpse, clearly taken down by darkspawn. The man didn’t know if anyone would ever find him and even if he was found, there was no way of knowing whether someone would heed his dying wish. He’d penned a letter with the last of his faith.

“I will go back for his things,” she said hesitantly, looking up at the men. “I know it’s a little out of the way to go back…”

“The dead deserve peace.” Maiara added sharply, as if daring anyone to challenge the both of them.

Alistair smiled encouragingly at the two women. “I agree. We’ll go back. I believe our scouts said this path curves around again?”

Leif nodded. “It does. This way.”

The dwarf led the way back down the hill towards the wetter parts of the swamp and the rest followed. Adoracia stayed towards the back, keeping pace with Maiara as they marched on.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, looking down to watch her step but eyeing the elf from the side.

Maiara nodded with the slightest of smiles in place.  “You are right. We should do this.”

Looking up briefly to return the smile, she looked out over the expanse of the swamp and wondered how far it went. It seemed to stretch all the way to the horizon as far as she could see. Trees, muck, and ruins stretching out forever into the distance.

There were a few more bodies along the way.

Each time they drew close enough, Adora checked the bodies, each time sighing in relief and thanking the Maker that none of the dead were Fergus. It was awful, she knew, but she couldn’t help but be glad that they were not her brother. It didn’t matter what the scout from earlier had said. She wouldn’t – _couldn’t_ – believe he was dead until she saw it with her own eyes.

_Come on, Adora Bell. Who could possibly survive out here? Even the wolves are running scared._

That was probably a sign for the Chasind to get out. Of all the dead they’d seen, none seemed to be the natives of the swamp.

“Ah, more elfroot. How convenient.” Nereus remarked as Lady dutifully brought him some slobbery plants. The dog barked happily and ran over to the cluster of pale green plants near a small body of water. “No, no thank you. You can handle that.”

Adora giggled, watching the lanky mage try to ward off the friendly hound. “Oh, just humor her. She knows you can use them, that’s all.”

He gave her a skeptical look as he slid the bag off his shoulder to place the elfroot within. “I wonder where she picked _that_ up from.”

The redhead smiled blithely and followed the dog to the rest of the plants. “She _does_ pay attention, you know. Just because she’s a dog doesn’t mean she’s-”

Her words broke off into a scream of pain. She’d just knelt to retrieve the elfroot when the sharpest pain she’d ever known cut through her back. There was a monstrous laugh that followed the pain as she fell to her knees. There were cries of alarm all around her now as she crawled away from the attack. She could hear weapons clashing and something heavy fell to the ground.

Turning her head to look over her shoulder, she could see the short, squat darkspawn that had attacked her. Others had already appeared, as if from thin air, and were engaging the rest of their group. The one that had attacked her was watching with a demented grin spread across its warped face as it slowly advanced on her precarious position.

Adora carefully balanced back onto her knees and shifted in the muck to face the creature and struggled to reach her bow. The pain bit sharply and she could not retrieve the weapon slung across her back. The darkspawn nearest her was stalking towards her already, its dagger stained with blood.

 _My blood?_ She was aware that it had to be, but it was so surreal. She’d only received the barest of scrapes and bruises before. This thing had attacked from stealth with no warning. It had pinpointed the weakness in her armor and taken her by surprise. The pain was unbelievable and there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t even reach back to stem the flow of blood.

 _Your sword!_ She’d forgotten about it since she’d thrown all of her practice into the bow recently. There was still a sword on her hip and a matching dagger in her boot. The dagger she couldn’t reach, but the sword was easy.

She cried out again as she drew the blade in time to block another swipe of the fiend’s dagger. The creature pressed forward with its bulky weight, causing her to bend backwards as she tried to fend it off. The pain in her back was almost blinding, but the fear of dying was enough to keep her from passing out. She was barely holding the darkspawn back, her sword being pressed closer and closer towards her face.

Blood sprayed across her chest and the weight was lifted. The monster was shoved to the side and she saw that its head had rolled off somewhere else.

Dropping her sword, Adora rested her head in the mud and closed her eyes.

Moments later, she opened her eyes and she was resting against a tree. Lady was licking her face clean and Nereus was very close with one hand resting against her shoulder and an arm wrapped around her waist, his other hand pressed to the small of her back. She blinked wearily and stared at him until he looked up, his vibrant blue eyes relieved to meet her gaze.

“I see you’ve returned to us,” he said dismissively, without a hint of concern in his smooth voice. “I’m _not_ feeling you up, by the way.”

She smiled and nodded, feeling the strange, warm buzz of what could only be magic. “I know. Thank you.”

He smiled and rubbed his hand against her back and she could feel the torn leather rubbing against her blood slicked skin. “You’ve got your first scar, I’d wager.”

Adoracia looked over his shoulder to see the others waiting. There were darkspawn corpses nearby and they were the only indication of the fight that had taken place. Everyone else was whole and unspoiled by any nasty wounds.

“So, I guess I ruined the ambush for the rest of you, right?” She asked lightly, trying to ignore the shame she felt.

Of course Nereus was the only one who laughed. Leif shot a disapproving glare in their direction, but the mage couldn’t see. Adora looked away, focusing instead on the strange feeling of Nereus’s magic.

“Good thing, too,” her healer said as he removed his hand and leaned back, wiping the blood on some moss. “There were no other injuries thanks to you. We got a warning _and_ stopped the darkspawn from doing more damage. We owe you thanks.”

She smiled and shrugged, pleased that nothing hurt any more. “Well, I’m glad I could be useful.”

He helped her to stand and Lady dutifully pressed herself against her leg. She scratched the hound’s ears and sighed. “I’m sorry for the trouble. We should continue.”

There were a few concerned looks exchanged. Nereus strode ahead, back the way they’d been going and others reluctantly followed. Adora avoided looking at anyone and did her best to keep a smooth, even pace. She’d seen how tired Nereus looked up close once he’d finished healing her. He’d said it wasn’t something he was good at. They were lucky to have him.

“I thought you could sense darkspawn before we got close.” Ser Jory wasn’t even trying to be subtle.

The knight was walking beside Alistair; both of them were ahead of Adora and not far behind Nereus. Leif was hovering just behind her, from what she could hear while Daveth and Maiara guarded the rear of their train. Lady remained at her side, her large head swiveling around to keep watch as they walked.

She could see Alistair’s shoulders stiffen after the knight’s accusation.

“We can.” He said rigidly.

“Then where did those darkspawn come from?” Ser Jory hissed. “If not for that mage, Lady Cousland could have been killed.”

There was a slight pause in the Warden’s steps and it almost looked like he was going to turn around. Instead, he continued, strangely silent for a moment more before responding.

“I made a mistake. It won’t happen again.” It sounded like there was more to be said, but that was all that came out.

“The next time there’s a _mistake_ , one of us may be killed. Then what?” The knight continued to grumble.

“Then you’re dead!” Nereus crowed cheerfully from the front. “That would be _such_ a relief, now wouldn’t it? It would certainly spare us more of your whining.”

Adora couldn’t help but grimace. They were going to start fighting again. _That_ would probably attract the attention of more darkspawn.

 _It’s my fault,_ she thought glumly, walking faster so she could interrupt. _I can’t let this continue._

“Okay, children, break it up!” She said loudly, walking up beside Ser Jory and cutting off any future protests. “I think some of us may have forgotten that being a soldier isn’t a safe occupation. Recruits we may be, but we are still soldiers. Not only that, but we cannot expect one man to be able to predict the movements of the entire enemy hoard.” She looked up briefly to see Alistair watching her before she looked back to Ser Jory. “Those darkspawn were both crafty and stealthy. You should be glad they broke cover. It probably saved your life. Stop blaming others and complaining. I thought you were _honored_ to be chosen.”

The older man wavered under her attention and sighed. “Yes, my lady. You are correct. I… I will act with more discretion.”

She nodded dismissively. “Good. You’ve been lectured twice now. I hope there is not a third time.”

Having said her piece, she moved forward to join Nereus. He gave her a sidelong glance and smiled.

“What a surprisingly sharp tongue you have, my lady.” He said sportively.

Adora sighed long-sufferingly. “I… am not as patient of late. My brother would have handled it with more humor, I imagine. My mother is – was always more straightforward. I suppose I take after her.”

The normally cheeky mage was thankfully solemn. After a moment of walking in silence, he gently patted her head, the action weirdly affectionate for him. “I suppose you do. She was a good shot, too. You’re doing just fine.”

The slight weight of his hand vanished. He wasn’t looking at her now; his sharp blue eyes were scanning the surrounding area and avidly avoiding her. His awkwardness about emotions was very endearing and she couldn’t help but think again that they were lucky he was there for them. He was harsh on Ser Jory, but the knight needed it. He was clearly the eldest out of their group and he had shown the least amount of emotional fortitude. Even with her fears and weaknesses, Adora did not question the Grey Wardens and their ability to lead.

She simply questioned their choice in candidates from Highever.

* * *

 

Leif

* * *

 

 

Before they reached the missionary’s camp, they were met by a gruesome sight. A dead tree lay suspended across two knolls like a bridge and from its desiccated trunk hung the corpses of three army scouts. They’d been there for some time it seemed; their faces were bloated, eyes picked clean by crows. Wounds that littered their bodies no longer wept blood, replaced by maggots and flies.

The waiting darkspawn attacked soon after. They were dealt with in a whirlwind of rage born of steel, magic, and teeth. Their constant fights against the monsters were beginning to bear fruit; while there was more strength and passion behind their attacks, there was also improved skill and caution to balance it. They look less damage and took out the darkspawn faster every time.

Leif kept ahead of the others, scouting for traps, disarming them, and shouting a warning if any other darkspawn lay in wait. Their archers hindered the ‘spawn, the warriors destroyed them, and Nereus occasionally threw a spell their way. He was slinging less magic around than before and Leif could only guess that it was due to his healing Adora.

When the darkspawn lay dead, they went through the routine of looting the bodies. Except for Adora. She immediately went to the tree, carefully balancing along the rotted trunk until she reached the crudely noosed soldiers. He watched her saw through the ropes with her dagger until all three men were cut loose. Their bodies hit the ground with the same wet sound everything in the blasted swamp seemed to have.

He knew she was still looking for her brother. He knew from the sigh of relief she gave after checking each one that she had yet to find him. That was good.

He checked around one of the large cages at the crest of a hill and found a few more traps. He disarmed them and took note of the chests they’d been protecting.

 _Probably set by soldiers, then._ He didn’t think the darkspawn were protecting supplies.

After he emptied the chests of their contents, he joined the others at the bottom of the hill.

* * *

 

Finally making it to the old camp, they dug up the lockbox for the missionary’s wife. Adora took the box and the letter, carefully storing them in her pack. While they carefully combed the camp for any more supplies, Leif noticed one of the Chasind markers mentioned in the first letter he found.

“Hey,” he calls out, not to anyone in particular. “Found one of those things.”

The mage is the first one at his side. _He’s always the first one._ Leif wondered how he’d managed to get so sneaky.

“Good work,” Nereus said after observing the trail marker. “I trust you’ll be able to find the rest of this trail? You seem to have a knack for it.”

Leif frowned at the compliment. He couldn’t tell if the other man was being sincere or not. “Yeah, I can find it. You all ready to move?”

They retraced a trail from before that had brought them to a split in the road. Before, they’d gone left; this time Leif led them straight, following the markers. They’d already dealt with one of the darkspawn groupings that way, so that made things a little smoother. In time, they came to more ruins that crossed a wider body of water. The trail seemed to go across the water and Leif eventually found a section with raised stone and debris that would keep them out of the worst of the muck.

A fierce howling rose from across the water. Dark forms rushed from a slope ahead of them. The wolves paused briefly to assess the situation before loping across the stone in the water to meet the recruits.

“Shit,” Leif muttered, drawing a sword and dagger he’d looted from one of the soldier corpses. “These ones aren’t running like the last ones!”

“They must be protecting their territory,” Maiara speculated, handling her great sword with care as she joined him at the front. “If we hope to cross, we must take them down.”

“We could use the supplies,” Nereus reminded them from the rear, leaning a little more heavily on his staff than he had been earlier. “Every fight drains more of my mana. That means there’s less to help with healing if it comes down to that again.”

“Well, we certainly can’t risk that, now can we?” Alistair quipped, joining Maiara and Leif. “We’ll take care of them. The rest of you stay back. If one of them gets through, leave it to Jory or Lady. Daveth, Adora, we’re in tight quarters here; we can’t risk arrows going awry. Engage with swords if absolutely necessary. Otherwise, stay back.”

* * *

 

The wolves didn’t make it past the three of them. Leif was a lot handier with a sword and dagger than with the mace. Maiara and Alistair were such heavy hitters than when they struck a wolf, the creature went down immediately. Leif did enough light damage to leave the wolves helpless against the two warriors and they were able to quickly deal with them with no risk to the rest of their party.

Afterward, they followed the rest of the trail around a bend and up the slope from which the wolves had come. There were two massive stone statues at the end of the slope, backed by sheer cliff. The statues flanked a chest full of supplies left by the missionary.

Leif ignored the chest, choosing to stare at the great statues. They reminded him of the colossal statues of the Paragons in Orzammar. Much less detailed, of course. Still, they were impressive. He hadn’t known that humans were capable of such feats.

At the feet of the statues there were more wildflowers. None of them were the flower he’d been asked to find, but they were still beautiful. There were so many colors… he’d never seen anything like them below the surface. He went to the flowers while everyone else dealt with the chest of supplies. He touched the ones that Nereus had called little lanterns. They were red and dripped down from their stems. There were others that were like bright yellow bowls with dark red petals framing the top. Some had broad, flat, triangular petals that started green on the outer edge and turned bright red in the center.

“You have a good eye.”

Leif bristled, nearly jumping out of his skin at the quiet remark from behind. He turned to glare at the sneaky mage and received only a smile in return.

“Would you _stop_ doing that?” He growled, looking away from the grinning human.

“Stop… what, exactly?” The mage asked facetiously. “Complimenting you? Noticing you? _Talking_ to you?”

“The last one isn’t a bad idea…” he mumbled under his breath. “Stop _sneaking_ up on me. It’s… rude.”

The mage laughed. “Ah, yes. Well, I can’t help it. You’re just so engrossed by the natural flora that you don’t hear me coming. Should I shout a warning next time?”

“Wouldn’t hurt…” He sighed. “What did you mean?”

“About what?”

“You said I have a ‘good eye’. What did you mean?” He asked again.

“Oh, I meant the flower. Embrium.” He pointed to the green and red flower. “It’s used in many potions and tonics. These are actually ideal conditions, but it can be found in several places throughout Thedas.”

Leif looked over the strange flower as Nereus explained its multiple uses. It was odd that such a pretty thing could be used for so much.

“Can you use it to fix…” He’d already forgotten what the mage had called it. “Your… power?”

“My mana? No, I’m afraid not.” He plucked a few of the flowers anyway, storing them with the things the dog had brought him. “No, I would need a lyrium potion for that. Which would require lyrium dust and a few other things. It’s not exactly easy to come across.”

 _Lyrium_. He’d heard humans used the stuff, but he hadn’t asked what for. If it could help someone regain the ability to use magic, no wonder the stuff was worth so much.

“You know a lot about plants, don’t you?” He asked, walking away from the flowers to rejoin the others. Nereus followed, intentionally adding weight to his steps.

“I do.” He agreed with a curious lilt to his voice. “Would you like to learn more?”

Leif sighed and looked up at the lanky mage. He’d looked much less imposing when he’d been wearing the shapeless robes from the Circle. When Adora had seen to the two of them being outfitted, they’d done an impressive job with Nereus. The rich blue, black, and gold attire made him look more nobleman than mage.

“I… sure.” He grumbled eventually, looking away from the smirking human.

Nereus chuckled lightly. “I’d be more than happy to teach you, my friend. In fact, the Wilds are the ideal place to begin. The swamp may appear as nothing more than mud and weeds, but it’s actually overflowing with beautiful, unique verdure…”

They were retracing their steps, leaving the wolf carcasses and statues behind. Nereus was still trilling on and Leif was doing his best to listen, but the man could talk for _days_ it seemed. He nodded here, replied there, asked questions when he could get a word in, but otherwise let the mage carry the conversation. They were in the back of the train now, with Daveth and Alistair leading the way. It felt like a lifetime ago that they’d entered Ostagar and eventually the Wilds. It didn’t seem like mere hours had passed. The swamp had a strange sense of light about it that made it seem as if night would never come and they would be trapped forever under the mist obscured sun, wandering the wetlands and fighting until they could rise no longer.

* * *

 

Maiara

* * *

 

 

They’d pulled a decent haul from the holy man’s cache. Maiara was grateful that she was not in charge of the expedition in the Wilds, because she likely wouldn’t have had the mind to go chasing obscure markers in the hopes of finding treasure. The Wilds were not kind to those who were unprepared. There were many tales of those who sought refuge in the embrace of the untamed wilderness only to meet a terrible fate deep in the confines of the swamp.

She wondered at the memory of long ago that told of the Sabrae clan entering the same Wilds only to leave unscathed with a mysterious bargain struck.

 _How far have they run from the troubles of Ferelden?_ Maiara would likely never know what would become of the deal made when she was a child. Her clan was far beyond her reach now, never to be seen again. The Dalish could not be found if they wished to remain hidden, even if one of their own happened to be looking for them.

She had other things to search for, anyway.

They were passing under a crumbling set of archways. Their Grey Warden guide was walking with the rakish human from the camp. He was surprisingly useful in battle, even if he didn’t rush to the forefront the way she did. The two men were carefully scouting ahead of their party, with Alistair likely feeling out the darkspawn and Daveth keeping an eye out for traps and tracks.

She followed with Adora at her side; the girl was even more pensive after her run-in with the darkspawn ambush earlier. Maiara was willing to bet that it had been the noblewoman’s first threatening injury. She herself held a collection of scars from wounds both perilous and benign. Still, she could clearly remember the overwhelming feeling of helplessness and fear when she’d been mauled by bear during her apprenticeship as a warrior.

It had torn through her armor like cheesecloth, damaging her left arm. She’d been terrified that the wound wouldn’t heal properly, causing her to lose the use of her arm. Luckily the Keeper and Merrill had enough knowledge of healing to fix it, leaving only a scar behind. She didn’t mind the scar. It was a reminder of what she could have lost due to her carelessness. After that, she’d honed her skills and built up her strength, rising among the warriors in her clan and standing among the best.

Adora was just beginning. She would collect her own scars while building upon her skills. She would have good companions at her side, just as Maiara had. She wanted to tell her these things, to let her know it was fine and that she would become stronger in the wake of her mistakes.

 _I am no good with words._ It had always been such. She reacted to her feelings and her instincts. She was no diplomat, obscuring her true meaning behind pretty words. Maiara had always been a warrior, proving herself through her actions rather than her voice.

“What song is that?” Adora suddenly asked, looking at her inquisitively.

Maiara frowned in confusion. “What song?”

“The one you’ve been humming under your breath,” she said concernedly. “Are you alright?”

She’d slowed her pace, trying to make sense of the question. Had she been humming? There was a song, wasn’t there? It was gone, but it was there. Of course it had been.

“I… yes. Ir abelas.” She said distractedly, straining her ears for the sound of the song.

“Are you sure? You seem tired. Perhaps we should-” Her voice trailed off as they caught sight of Alistair and Daveth hurriedly walking towards them.

“Darkspawn ahead,” the Warden said lowly, nodding over his shoulder. “A lot. Pretty sure at least one is a mage. There’s no way around if we want to press forward. We’ll have to move carefully.”

The others had caught up and joined the discussion.

“How many would you estimate?” Nereus asked assertively, tapping his staff against the soggy ground.

“No more than ten, if we’re lucky. That’s taking into account any that may have taken to stealth… they’re quite a bit harder to sense.” Alistair conceded, a look of concentration in his light brown eyes. “I can take out the mage if I can get close enough. It’ll likely be protected, though. We’ll have to break through quickly and concisely.”

“I’ll see what I can do to sow a bit of mayhem,” Nereus offered. “I say we don’t overcomplicate this. We go as we always have. Leif: be sneaky. Alistair: you, Maiara, and Jory take their attention. Lady will remain as backup for Adora, Daveth, and I. Focus on the mage if you can, Alistair, but don’t put yourself at risk. You’re the only Warden we’ve got.”

“Are _you_ giving the orders now?” Alistair asked amusingly.

The mage offered one of his increasingly common smiles. To Maiara, he seemed very much like a wolf baring his teeth.

“Might as well. Someone with a brain should be in charge, don’t you think?”

Alistair winced playfully. “Ouch. Guess I should have seen that one coming.”

“Yes, you should have. Now, go. Do your templar thing.” Nereus said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I’ll be whipping up something special. If you see anything glowing, do try to back away, will you?”

Maiara had already turned to go with the other warriors, but the mage’s comment caused her to turn. There was a familiar gleam in his eyes as he quietly followed behind.

“You’re not going to…” She sighed when he grinned.

“I won’t improve if I don’t practice!”

She groaned and jogged after Jory and Alistair. The human mage was far too gleeful in his anticipation of violence. As long as he kept that penchant for explosions trained on the enemy, she’d curb her complaints.

* * *

 

The darkspawn mage proved to be especially difficult. It lay in wait on the other side of a rickety bridge that barely managed to float above the muck. The bridge was littered with traps and the muddy water on either side of the bridge was too viscous to risk wading through. Leif handled the traps, barely, as the darkspawn dealt with the bigger threat posed by the warriors.

They’d unfortunately bypassed a few darkspawn lying in wait on their side of the bridge. The roguish foes had flanked them and could have done some real damage if not for the support Nereus and their archers produced. There was a distinctive _pop_ that she’d heard once before, when they’d encountered the bandits on the highway, followed by a staccato of arrows striking their targets. She turned to see the darkspawn that had crept behind them and was pleased to see most of them had been downed by the arrows. The last looked confused as a faint light glowed about it like an aura.

It caught her stare and started its charge towards her, pushing aside its confusion in favor of attack. Maiara remembered the fate of the bandit Nereus had touched with such magic; she clumsily threw herself aside as it stumbled passed her towards the thick of the fight.

“Be wary!” She shouted to her companions as she righted herself and followed the affected darkspawn. “The mage has spelled that one!”

Leif must have understood as he quickly shoved the marked darkspawn towards its encroaching brethren. Alistair and Jory cautiously guarded themselves against the other darkspawn while doing their best to evade the one pointed out to them.

“Spelled it how?!” Alistair asked, bashing it with his shield and sending it spinning into another of its kind.

“It’s gonna explode!” Leif answered, slashing the throat of one of the shorter darkspawn.

Maiara could see both men’s eyes expand in shock. Her eyes flicked to the darkspawn in question and she could see that it wasn’t looking so good. It had fallen and was now struggling to rise, the light pulsing around its form. Somehow it did and it rushed towards them only to be flung back by a very nervous looking Alistair.

“ _What?!_ ” He howled in alarm just as the threatened explosion commenced. He ducked behind his shield as black blood, armor debris, and other questionable grossness rained down on them.

Jory had nothing to hide behind and was speckled with blood and a few chunks.

Leif had run for it when he’d caught on, dashing for cover behind one of the darkspawn fortifications.

Maiara had been, thankfully, out of range of the carnage.

There had been other darkspawn nearby and several of them had been struck by shrapnel from the armor and bone, but they otherwise seemed unharmed. She hadn’t thought it possible, but they seemed shocked by the result.

The pause in their assault gave Alistair the time he needed to shut down the enemy mage. He threw himself within range of the creature and a wave of energy radiated out, knocking the foe to the ground and dispelling the charge of magic in the air.

His actions broke the stillness left in the air and the fight continued.

Maiara lost track of the others as she threw herself into the motions, swinging the great sword in wide arcs to take out the darkspawn clustering around her smaller frame. The short ones were better at penetrating her defenses, doing their best to keep out of sight until the last moment. It was difficult to keep an eye on them on top of dealing with the others, but they always seemed to stumble into her view when it seemed they should have stabbed her instead. She could only assume Leif was keeping them from successfully attacking her.

When she’d cleaved through the last of the monsters surrounding her, she turned only to find the others had been dealt with as well. The darkspawn encampment had been fairly fortified, but they’d torn through the defenses with ease thanks to Leif managing the traps and Nereus causing the distraction with his spell. It had been a little distracting for them, too, but they’d come out alright. She could only assume they’d be less distracted with more practice fighting beside the strange mage and his flamboyant magic.

Kneeling to wipe her sword on a pelt carried by one of the darkspawn, she watched as the rest of their party joined them across the bridge.

“Is this the last of them?” Nereus asked cautiously, surveying the area with interest.

“No,” Alistair said, looking to a nearby clearing. “There are some waiting… I can just barely sense them.”

“It looks like the rest of their camp.” Maiara assessed, rising to inspect the area. “Let us deal with this and move on. I tire of this swamp.”

As she headed towards the camp, she could hear the others following her lead. They seemed much more at ease since the bulk of the threat seemed to be dealt with.

“What _was_ that, by the way? I’ve never seen anything like it.” Alistair asked, his tone somewhere between disgusted and amazed.

“A spell I learned from a tome on spirit magic. Can you believe how _little_ this school is utilized?” Nereus seemed oblivious to the other man’s tone. “Everyone thinks _entropy_ is the nastiest, what with all the hexes and such. No one ever thinks that-”

His excited speech was cut short by the darkspawn emerging from stealth. Maiara split the first one in half with an angry growl. Daveth peppered the second with arrows from a safe distance, killing it with a headshot.

“Oh my,” Nereus breathed softly, watching the display with delight. “Well _done_ , you two! They didn’t even know what hit them.”

Maiara sighed. She would not pretend to understand his fascination with the macabre. Cleaning her sword again, she looked to Alistair, who looked just as impressed, but not nearly as gleeful as the mage.

He noticed her stare and smiled. “Like he said, well done. I can’t sense any more in the immediate area, so I think we’re good for now. Unless there are more hungry wolves lying in wait.”

“One can always hope for the best,” she muttered, looking away and watching as Nereus combed the camp for valuables.

 _He’s like a vulture._ Not that she didn’t understand the need to procure things that could be of use or value in the future. He just always seemed to unfazed by the grisly sight of corpses rotting in the hazy light.

 _How does one care so little for death and decay?_ She knew he’d come from the mage prison. He would have been sheltered from such things there, surely. Yet he seemed to thrive on the chaos of battle and crowds.

“He’s an odd one, huh?” Leif said from behind her.

She turned to see the dwarf was watching Nereus as well. He seemed less hostile to the man than he had before, but there was still a glimmer of suspicion in his green eyes. She shrugged and started walking back towards the path. She wasn’t one to gossip. The mage had taken clear steps to be more friendly and helpful for them. The least she could do was ignore his quirks.

* * *

 

Nereus

* * *

 

 

Once again, the darkspawn encampment was based out of a camp originally maintained by humans. After Daveth and Maiara had taken care of the last foes, Nereus had taken a good look around the camp. The darkspawn had killed a soldier not long ago, it seemed. On his person Nereus was pleased to find a few coins as well as a note and a pouch of what appeared to be ashes.

It wasn’t unusual for someone to request their remains be placed somewhere special to them after their death. He would have left the ashes with the corpse if not for the note. It was an excerpt from local myths and legends with handwritten notes added to it.

_“Markus, I think this is real! If you take the ashes I gave you and scatter them over a pile of rocks on an overhang overlooking the half-sunken Tevinter Dome, maybe Gazarath will appear and give you a wish! If the battle takes you there, I think it’s worth a try!”_

He’d carefully folded the note and placed it in a pocket along with the pouch of ashes. The soldier clearly didn’t get his wish (who would _wish_ to be mauled by darkspawn?) so he figured he might as well look into it. It was rare for spirits to remain outside of the Fade for so long, let alone long enough to spend time with a mortal and fall in love. Was it even possible for a spirit to love someone?

As he followed far behind the others, leaning on his staff with each step, he wondered about Gazarath and Astia, the human woman loved by a spirit of the earth.

* * *

 

He watched the landmarks as they walked, keeping an eye out for the Tevinter Dome mentioned in the note. He also watched his companions, doing his best impression of a weary mage as he trailed behind them. There was no reason to mention he’d brought lyrium potions from the Circle or that he may have procured a few more while in camp. His mana had already replenished itself in between battles, but they didn’t need his help as much as they believed. If they thought him exhausted enough they wouldn’t pay so much attention to him if he kept quiet and out of sight.

They were headed roughly northeast and steadily making their way uphill. Slow water churned by to their left, ruins sticking out of the mud and trees at regular intervals. Nereus searched the ruins for the shape of the dome and as they started to turn a little more east to avoid more water, he saw it. The great dome had sunk into the waters of the swamp long ago, but it towered over the other ruins all the same, jutting out of the wetlands like a smooth hill, bare of creepers and moss. It was somehow very tragic in the slowly dying light of the sun.

“Wow,” he whispered as he veered off course from the rest of the party. He continued north along the edge of the cliff that plunged down into the lower wetlands. If it could be in as good a condition as Ostagar, it would surely be a more magnificent sight. It was truly a thing of wonder that such mammoths of architecture had once graced the lands.

 _Nearly everything Tevinter had accomplished has fallen to ruin._ The great empire had once covered most of the known world. The Korcari Wilds were the end in Ferelden, as far south as anyone was willing to go. It was no wonder. The swamplands were barely habitable. Tevinter hadn’t stood a chance.

The land came to a sudden end with an overhang jutting above the water. A pile of rocks, very much like a cairn, covered the outcropping over the still lake. Nereus pulled the pouch from his pocket and stared at the rocks, wondering if he was being foolish.

“What are you doing?”

He practically jumped out of his skin at the sound of the gruff voice from below. He turned to see Leif standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

 _The little shit is smirking._ He realized, feeling his lips pull back from his teeth into what he hoped was a harmless smile.

“You finally got the jump on me! That’s a pleasant trade, isn’t it?” He asked unflappably, closing his hand around the pouch.

The dwarf shrugged. “You were distracted.”

“So I was. Quite the marvel of architecture, don’t you-”

“What’s in your hand?” Leif interrupted, clearly not falling for his misdirection.

Nereus arched a brow in addition to his smile. “A purse. Nothing dangerous, I assure you.”

“I’m not assured,” Leif said suspiciously. “What’s it in?”

Sighing dramatically, Nereus uncurled his fingers and opened the pouch for Leif to look within. “See for yourself.”

The dwarf wrinkled his nose. “Dirt? Ash?”

“Ashes, yes.” He moved to stand before the cairn. Balancing his staff against his shoulder, he dipped his hand into the ashes. Magical energy hummed through his fingers as he touched the soft dust.

“Whatever you’re planning, don’t.” Leif said, an edge of panic in his normally stoic voice. “There’s something weird about this place.”

“Oh, how would you know,” he said calmly, scooping a small handful of ashes from the bag. “Aren’t dwarves immune to magic?”

“Fuck if I know,” Leif snapped, drawing his sword and backing away. “I don’t wanna find out.”

Nereus flung the ashes out from his hand and watched as they gently sprinkled over the stones. He felt a pulse rush out from the rocks; then nothing.

“Fairy tale or not,” he said aloud, turning from the ashes to look at his worried, dwarven companion. “There _was_ something here.”

“Whatever; can we go now?” Leif was looking around nervously, his knuckles white as he gripped his sword and dagger.

Before Nereus took a step, the ashes from the stones were kicked up by a gust of wind from the lake. The water below did not move. The ashes swirled in the air as tendrils of darkness crept up from the damp earth, joining the ashes and taking the form of a hooded figure with a single burning light for an eye.

“ _Who summons Gazarath from slumber?”_ A voice hissed from no visible mouth.

Nereus gaped at the creature before him. “A _shade_. You’re a – oh, surely there’s little _time_ for such observations!” He exclaimed giddily, ignoring the dawning look of horror on Leif’s face as he focused on the spirit. “Gazarath. I desire to know if the tale is true. Did you _love_ Astia, a mortal woman?”

The shade seemed to waver, moving aggressively one moment and shifting shyly the next. He sensed that there was much turmoil within the creature. A being that belonged in the Fade would likely go mad if condemned to live so long in the unchanging world of mortals. If it was still here, bound in some way, it was unlikely it could return to the Fade without being destroyed.

 _“It is truth.”_ It susurrated, hesitation painting its fluid movements. _“Astia… my friend. She grew to love another. Jealous, I betrayed her trust. I was unworthy of her love. She killed her beloved... she was… punished. It has been... so long. Let it end. Grant my wish.”_

“You _loved_ her? Truly?” He pressed the spirit for more, amazed that such a thing could be. If spirits were capable of such feelings… they did them a great disservice.

The light in its hood flickered and he felt a sense of sadness and longing so powerful that it nearly brought him to his knees. Clinging to his staff and planting his feet in the soft earth, he smiled charily. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’” The feeling dissipated and he stood tall. “I don’t suppose you grant wishes?”

“Are you insane?!” Leif cried, finally breaking free of the fear that held him.

The spirit whirled to face the dwarf, bristling with magical energy as it flared up. Leif wisely dashed out of the way as the shade spewed a line of flame in his direction.

“Well, if you insist!” Nereus drew up a barrier around himself and Leif as Gazarath turned to blast more fire their way. He countered it with a cone of cold, creating a temporary barrier of ice between them and the spirit.

“Why is it trying to kill us?!” Leif asked angrily, keeping on the safe side of the ice. “Why’d you have to piss it off, huh?!”

“Oh, it’s not angry at _me_ ,” Nereus explained calmly, pointing his staff at the spirit as it oozed around the ice. He curled his fingers into a fist, trapping it in a crushing prison. “It’s simply gone mad with grief after years trapped in our world. The only way it can return to the Fade is for its physical form to be slain. _That_ is what it wants.”

“You sound crazy, you know that?” Leif grunted, calming down from shouting now that the shade seemed contained.

The mage shrugged, watching as Gazarath slowly began to break free from his spell. It was a strong one; that was for sure.

“Be that as it may, I strongly suggest you help me to put it down.” He took a step back in anticipation of its attack. “I cannot defeat it on my own.”

“You asking for my help?”

“I’m asking that you help yourself, Leif.” Nereus said sternly, not in a mood for games. “It will attack with its full strength. It wishes for death. For us to provide that mercy, we must be in danger.”

The dwarf mumbled something under his breath. He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, alright. Death it is, then.”

Just before Nereus’s spell broke, Leif had sprinted behind Gazarath, piercing the shade’s cowl with sword and dagger before quickly leaping away to avoid reprisal. The spirit let out an unearthly shrill of pain as it turned between Leif and Nereus. The mage hassled it with arcane bolts as he pent up the energy to hit it with another heavy spell while Leif darted around taunting the shadowy creature.

Before he could blast it with more spells, Nereus watched as the spirit was feathered with arrows. He turned to see Daveth and Adora standing with arrows locked on the spirit. Alistair, Jory, and Maiara weren’t far behind. By the time he heard the barking, Lady was already tearing into Gazarath with a fierceness he hadn’t seen since Highever.

The three warriors finally caught up and joined the fray, taking the spirits attention away from himself and Leif, allowing them to do more damage with less energy. Within a mere minute of their party’s arrival, Gazarath was defeated.

The spirit collapsed in a puff of ash and shadow, the light in its cowl blinking out for good. A mysterious wind scattered the ashes, blowing them over the edge of the cliff into the lake; somehow, the wind seemed to pass through the leaves of trees without disturbing them in the slightest. A whisper on the breeze reached his ears and Nereus couldn’t help but smile.

_“My wish has been granted…”_

* * *

 

“What were you _thinking?!_ ”

He was in trouble.

Gazarath was no longer an issue, but his companions hadn’t been present for the exchange. Somehow, he doubted they’d be less understanding than Leif. Especially Alistair. Templars weren’t known for their sympathy in regards to misplaced spirits.

Said individual was currently staring him down with the angriest expression he’d seen on the boyish Warden’s face. He’d immediately turned to shout at him when he’d pieced things together and realized Nereus was the one who’d run off first and that Leif had followed.

Nereus smiled innocently. “I was thinking that those ruins don’t look half bad from this view.”

The fuming, handsome blonde didn’t seem assuaged by his answer. “We’re supposed to stay _together_ , Nereus. The Wilds are dangerous! If you’d been caught alone by some darkspawn scouts, you could have been killed! You’re lucky that Leif thought to follow you.” He paused to look down at Leif and his glare didn’t waver. “And _you_! You should have alerted us when you noticed he was missing. That demon was stronger than _both_ of you. How did this even _happen_?”

Nereus hesitated. He hadn’t expected it to go like this. Honestly, he was surprised it had taken them so long after Leif had gone off. He couldn’t tell them what had happened, but if he didn’t, it was entirely likely that Leif would place the blame on him. Would it be easier if he said it first? He really hadn’t-

“You’re right,” Leif apologized, startling him from his runaway train of thoughts. “I made a mistake. I just thought that when he pointed out the ruins, maybe we could cover more ground. It didn’t seem dangerous until we got to the ledge…”

It took everything in his power to conceal his shock over the dwarf coming to his defense. “Yes, the ashes. Those rocks on the ledge are likely a burial mound of some kind. There were ashes coating the stone. We must have disturbed them when we were looking at the ruins. The spirit attacked us just before you arrived.”

“The demon,” Alistair corrected him pointedly. “You two got lucky. Don’t let this happen again.”

 _I’m being reprimanded by a child._ Nereus nodded and smiled gratefully. “We did. I believe we’ve learned our lesson.”

“And that would be…?” The Warden asked expectantly.

Nereus sighed. “Share our ideas with the class and don’t wander off without a written – _ow!_ ”

Adora was pinching his ear. She’d quietly walked up beside him when he’d been mouthing off. He hadn’t expected her to involve herself in the dispute. Clearly he’d been proven wrong.

She released her hold on him and gave him an extra jab in the ribs for good measure. “We were worried about you, you ass. You looked so tired after the last battle and because you…” she looked down. “You said you exhausted most of your mana.”

“I… I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Alistair looked rather pleased by his contrition this time. “Good. I do think you’ve learned your lesson. Let’s move on. The ruins we seek aren’t far.”

“How d’you know?” Leif asked, jogging a little to catch up with Alistair as he led the way.

The Warden laughed genially. “Oh, you two missed _all_ the fun. It took so long to notice you were gone because we got caught up in another fight.”

“Found more darkspawn, did you?” Nereus mused, following behind them with Adora at his side. They’d gone east from the Tevinter Dome and followed the lake around a bend to another hill. He could already see the makeshift fortifications in the distance.

“Unfortunately.” Ser Jory pouted from behind him.

“There were lots more than last time,” Daveth said chattily. “Ser Whines-a-lot was nearly skewered by one of them big ones. Luckily our lady elf is so handy with that big sword of hers.”

“Please don’t call me that.” Maiara said flatly.

“I should be the one saying that.” The knight huffed.

Daveth laughed. “See? He’s earned his name fair and square!”

“So there was a fight?” Leif turned the conversation back. “At the ruins?”

“Well, _almost_ at the ruins,” Alistair explained. “The darkspawn had actually left them alone. It was actually when we engaged them that we noticed you were gone. We couldn’t run away, though. That posed more of a risk than staying without extra support. We managed, though. Got a few nicks and such; nothing bandages can’t heal.”

“That’s a relief,” Nereus said glibly. “I can’t have you lot depending on _me_ to heal you.”

“Oh, of course not,” Adora agreed readily at his side. “ _Surely_ that would be a disaster.”

The mage grinned. “Maybe you should only depend on me healing the pretty ones.”

“That leaves _you_ out, Ser Whines-a-lot.” Daveth chirped merrily, taking the opportunity when it was presented.

“I do not recall loathing someone so much before.”

“That’s the spirit!”

* * *

 

The fortress had clearly fallen into disrepair ages ago. The majority had collapsed in on itself, leaving massive piles of broken stone where there should have been passageways. The main lobby was mostly open and free of debris, but it looked as if someone had deliberately cleared it away. At the back of the chamber was a crushed chest that looked like the most obvious trap in the world.

Their group stood at the entrance to the ruins, looking in every direction for signs of hidden enemies.

“I don’t sense any darkspawn in the area,” Alistair said quietly, resting his free hand on the sword at his hip. “That doesn’t mean there aren’t a few talented at cloaking their presence.”

Apparently he still hadn’t forgiven himself for not spotting the darkspawn that had attacked Adora. Nereus had been shocked, too. He hadn’t known darkspawn could hide themselves in such ways. The darkspawn’s blade had gone deep and it had certainly pierced an organ, but he’d been able to heal the worst damage. Alistair had blamed himself for being unable to adequately protect one of the people under his command.

“I’m not seeing any traps,” Leif added from one corner of the ruin, apart from the others. “Daveth?”

The other man shook his head. “Nothin’ here. I think we’re good.”

They cautiously spread out in the main chamber with Alistair going for the chest. Nereus watched him as he carefully pried the crushed thing open, only to step back with a look of confusion.

“They’re gone,” he said quietly.

Nereus shrugged stretched. “Figures. We trek all the way out here, of _course_ they’re gone. It looks like whoever or whatever broke that chest got to them first. That could have been decades ago for all we know.”

“No,” Maiara said softly, observing the chest herself. “This was only recently dug out from wherever it was before. The chest _was_ broken into some time ago… but someone put it out here on display.”

“Only a Grey Warden would know how important those treaties are.” Alistair said. “Who would want to send a message to the Wardens?”

They all turned at the sound of a stone rolling loose from one of the collapsed corridors.

“Well, well, what have we here?” A smooth, sly voice cooed from the shadows of the ruins.

A woman stepped out from one of the crippled passages. The way she lightly stepped upon the stones showed that she’d allowed them to hear her movements before she spoke.

The cave-in she lithely walked led to an intact ramp that spread into the chamber they inhabited and she gracefully descended from the rubble to the ramp. Her strange golden-yellow eyes shined out from a pale, fine-boned face with dark lips, high cheekbones, and a fringe of dark hair. Her clothes were strange and tribal, marking her as a local of the Wilds.

She gradually walked along the ramp she was perched upon, the soft leather of her boots making no noise against the stone. “Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned?”

Nereus watched her carefully, stepping passed his companions to follow the mysterious woman’s movements. Her every move was entrancing, looking very much like a cat circling its hapless prey. Gold sparkled around her neck and he found himself staring at the intricate necklace wrapped so tightly around her pale throat.

She circled them slowly as she spoke, moving with a deliberate grace unlike any human he’d ever seen. “Or are you merely intruders, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?” She halted her predator movements to glare coolly at each of them, her golden eyes flaring occasionally. Her gaze settled on Maiara and the elf stood straighter. “What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?”

Maiara spoke plainly, her normally low voice as clear as a bell. “Neither. We are not here to bring war nor did we come to pick through lost treasures.”

The woman seemed to trust her words. “Is that so? Then why do you come here?”

“The Grey Wardens once housed themselves in this tower. We come on their behalf.” Nereus said loudly, stepping forward and drawing the woman’s attention to himself.

She eyed him distrustfully, her eyes falling on his staff before looking at his face. “’Tis a tower no longer. The Wilds have obviously claimed this desiccated corpse.”

“ _Clearly_ this detail has eluded us.” He didn’t like that she was purposefully ignoring the point he’d made. “You’ve certainly set us straight.”

He wasn’t sure if she was amused or annoyed with his scathing reply, but she began her circling anew, coming around so that she stood on a pile of stone facing the Wilds with the ruins at her back. The others watched her warily, their hands never parting from their weapons. It was clear to him that she was a mage; the twisted branch she carried in hand was no walking stick.

“I have watched your progress for some time.” She said carefully, showing no hesitation in turning her back on them. “‘Where do they go.’ I wondered, ‘why are they here?’ And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long.” She turned to look back at them, her strange yellow eyes as calculating as a wildcat’s. “Why is that?”

“Don’t answer her.” The Warden stepped forward cautiously. “She looks Chasind and that means others may be nearby.”

The apostate let out a scornful cackle. “You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?”

Alistair frowned, watching her as carefully as ever. “ _Yes_ , swooping _is_ bad.”

“She’s a Witch of the Wilds, she is! She’ll turn us into toads!” Daveth’s shrill whisper was on the verge of terror.

Nereus snorted in derision, doing everything within his power to hold back the laughter threatening to bubble forth.

The mysterious woman sounded just as mocking in her smooth, proper tone. “Witch of the Wilds? Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?” She propped her thin hands on her hips as she looked down her nose at the lot of them, as beautiful and terrible as any noblewoman. Her yellow eyes locked onto Nereus and his laughter died away. “You there. Mages are not frightened little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine.”

He smiled, charmed that she had chosen him. “I am Nereus. It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

He swore one of her thin dark brows rose in interest. “Now _that_ is a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds.” She did not smile, but she sounded pleased. “You may call me Morrigan.”

“Lady Morrigan,” he tested, ignoring the groan of disbelief from Maiara. He smiled coyly. “It has a nice ring to it.”

“No, it does not.” The lady in question disagreed.

He frowned and she seemed to take encouragement from that. “Shall I guess your purpose? You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?”

“’Here no longer?’ You _stole_ them, didn’t you?” Alistair accused heatedly. “You’re… some kind of… sneaky… witch-thief!”

“Brilliant,” Nereus muttered softly, relating to the sighs from the others.

Morrigan seemed more amused than ever. “How very eloquent. How does one steal from dead men?”

Alistair wasn’t giving up. “Quite easily, it seems. Those documents are Grey Warden property and I suggest you return them.”

“I will not, for ‘twas not I who removed them.” Morrigan’s patience was thinning as she waved an irritated hand. The Warden flinched, likely having deduced she was a mage and expecting an attack. She did not fail to notice, her eyes flashing to the blonde briefly before she defensively crossed her arms. “Invoke a name that means nothing here any longer if you wish; I am not threatened.”

“Alistair, this isn’t how to deal with the Chasind.” Adora advised cautiously, trying to soothe the Warden’s temper.

Nereus twisted slightly so he could keep Morrigan in his line of sight as well as look at his companions. It was then that he realized Alistair was not angry, but merely scared. He suddenly looked younger than he had before.

“Those treaties are key to defending against the Blight,” the young Warden said insistently, trying to hide his fear behind bluster. “We can’t return without them, not when we know who took them.”

“But we _don’t_ know, do we?” Adora asked, turning to look at Morrigan herself. She looked more than a little scared herself, but she looked too tired to give in to fear.

Moving from the safety of the other recruits, she stepped up beside Nereus as they both addressed Morrigan.

“Hello, Morrigan. I’m… my name is Adora.” She said evenly, inclining her head to the dark haired woman. Morrigan returned the nod and she continued. “Would you be willing to tell us who took the documents from the chest? It’s very important.”

For a moment, Nereus wasn’t sure the other woman would acquiesce. Then she spoke, her smooth voice cutting through the distance between them in an instant.

“’Twas my mother, in fact.” She admitted at last.

That wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. “Your… mother?”

Morrigan glared at him now. “ _Yes_ , my mother. Did you assume I spawned from a log?”

“A thieving, weird-talking log, perhaps.” Alistair mumbled dryly.

Did he hear a sigh escape those lips? The mysterious mage from the Wilds strolled over to a tree and gracefully stretched to lean against its rough bark. Her dark hair hid her eyes in profile and all Nereus could do was stare at her dark, berry stained lips as she spoke.

“Not all in the Wilds are monsters,” She said almost too softly. “Flowers grow, as well as toads.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, he heard a string of romanticism in her words. Surprising for one so opening callous. Even more shocking was how well-spoken this supposed barbarian woman was.

“Can you take us to your mother?” Adora was asking now, apparently not so bewitched as Nereus himself was. “We only want to talk.”

Morrigan turned to appraise the girl, her yellow eyes as impassive as a cat’s. “If you wish, I will take you to my mother. ‘Tis not far from here and you may ask her for your papers, if you like.”

“Thank you, Morrigan.” The noblewoman said sincerely, bowing her head once again. “We are in your debt.”

“So you say.” The witch countered impartially.

Nereus stepped forward willingly, ready to follow. Alistair’s hand on his shoulder caused him to pause and stare at the Warden.

“We _should_ get those treaties, but I dislike this… Morrigan’s sudden appearance.” He said, trying to appeal to what he hoped was a cautious nature. “It’s too convenient.”

“Why?” He asked, confused. “She said she’d been watching us. She’s been up front about that. If she knows where they are, we don’t have time to waste.”

Alistair sighed, releasing him. “Yes, I know, it’s just… you are probably not the person I should be venting to about this, are you?”

“Is it because she’s an apostate?” He asked quietly, not wanting to offend the subject any further. “She didn’t attack us. If she’d been talking to us to distract us so we could be surrounded, Lady would have noticed. Right?”

The dog huffed in affirmation and he nodded.

“I… suppose you’re right.” Alistair confessed uneasily.

Daveth was not comforted. “She’ll put us all in the pot, she will. Just you watch.”

Before Nereus could snap at him, Jory was surprisingly forward. “If the pot’s warmer than this forest, it’d be a nice change.”

“I shall have to keep that in mind,” Morrigan called sweetly from her tree. “I’m afraid there are far too many guests for our one pot, however. Perhaps next time?”

Nereus watched Daveth go from terrified to petrified in seconds. He was afraid the poor man wouldn’t move at all at this rate. He clapped his hands loudly and started stomping over to Morrigan.

“Well, now that our place as _not_ dinner has been established, let’s be on our way, shall we?” He looked back to see that the thief was the only one hesitating to follow. “ _Before_ more darkspawn arrive? I dare say, I doubt you’d make it back on your own.”

“Right behind you, then.” Daveth said quickly, rushing to catch up with their group.

Morrigan let out a bored sigh and turned, starting down a hill on the other side of the ruin to reveal another path. “Follow me, then, if it pleases you.”

Nereus received a jab against his ribs that forced him to bite his tongue. He frowned down at Adora who was walking beside him with the most innocent look on her pale, freckled face.

“I didn’t _say_ anything!” He hissed quietly.

She shrugged. “You were about to.”

He opened his mouth to object and was shushed immediately, this time by Maiara.

“Just don’t,” she warned softly. “We want her on our side.”

As the witch led them deeper into the swamp, he wondered if maybe they didn’t. Alistair and Daveth could both be right. She could be leading them into a trap, away from where they darkspawn could interrupt and steal the spoils from the barbarians. He’d been too easily swayed by a pretty face and a musical voice. He’d never had to prepare for such an encounter before. Adora and Maiara were both beautiful, but Morrigan was… something else. He’d never been so enchanted by a woman before. It was more than her appearance; it was her voice, her gait, every movement.

Suddenly he was reminded of tales he’d heard as a child. Tales of beautiful women luring men into their lairs; whether they are in the woods, the ocean, or even the Fade, the men follow. Promises of love, marriage, power and wishes draw them in and the men forget they had ever wanted anything other than the woman. The woman of their dreams, so radiant and perfect in everything they do that a man would give up everything if only they could hear those lovely lips say their name just once.

Begrudgingly pulling himself out of the memories of tales long ago, he realized he was obediently following along with the others and that his eyes were calmly staring at a very well-formed, leather-clad ass.

He smiled, drowning out the wary chatter around him. At least he had a good view.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once more, this was longer than I expected it to be.


	23. The Secret Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion of the adventure in the Korcari Wilds.  
> The recruits become Wardens, at long last.

\-------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 9th

\-------------------------

 

The mysterious mage who’d identified herself as Morrigan lead them through the swamp. She seemed to know the ways easily, as she never once stumbled or had to check her surroundings. Her footing was sure, each movement was calculated, and she never hesitated. There were no darkspawn on the paths she chose, although Alistair seemed to tense up more than once, staring off in another direction before following the dark haired mage.

Nereus seemed all too cheerful with the situation, as usual. Several times he tried to strike up a conversation with the other mage only to be told off time and again.

Maiara was beginning to like Morrigan, stranger though she was.

Since her appearance in the ruins, the secretive mage had been nothing but honest with them. Or so it seemed. It was still possible that she was leading them into a trap, but Maiara doubted it. Surely at least one of them would have taken notice of any suspicious movements by then.

Still, the trek was beginning to tire her out. The entire day had been nothing but walking and fighting. It was beginning to fray her nerves. Her mind felt slow and foggy and her limbs were beginning to follow suit. She saw Adora stealing glances her way every time she stumbled, but she always shook her head at the girl’s questioning glance.

 _I’m fine_. She tried to say with her eyes. It probably wasn’t working.

Soon enough, a derelict hut came into view. It was surrounded by water for the most part, but there was a broad clearing, some tumbling ancient statuary, and a decent field of herbs. It looked very much like any home would in the middle of a swamp.

Before they drew too near, the door opened and a willowy, modestly dressed old woman exited.

She looked like any peasant human that Maiara had seen. Her skin weathered from the sun, her long hair grey with age, her simple dress held together with patches and sagging on her thin frame.

Her eyes, though, they were not at all like the humans she’d seen. They were sharp and gold, just like Morrigan’s.

The old woman drew a threadbare shawl around her shoulders as they closed in on her position.

Leading the procession, Morrigan called out to her mother. “Greetings, Mother. I bring before you a flock of Grey Wardens who-”

“I see them, girl.” The woman snapped, her eyes narrowing as she looked over each of them in turn. She hummed to herself and nodded her head. “Much as I expected.”

Alistair rolled his eyes. “Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?”

The old woman stared at him, her gaze calm and shrewd. She seemed to come to a decision about him then, but Maiara could not guess what it may be. “You are required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut one’s eyes tight or open one’s arms wide… either way, one’s a fool!”

Her words sounded like nonsense at first. The old woman was either mad or insightful; or something in between.

“She’s a witch, I tell you!” Daveth hissed, shrinking to the back of their collective. “We shouldn’t be talking to her!”

Once again, the knight seemed to have his priorities straight. He seemed to hold no stock in the idea of swamp witches. “Quiet, Daveth! If she’s really a witch, do you want to make her mad?”

The potential witch smiled; her teeth were surprisingly nice for a swamp dweller. “There is a smart lad. Sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things, but it is not I who decides. Believe what you will.”

She looked over them all, her eyes glancing over each recruit again before landing on Maiara. The old woman stepped closer, her golden eyes narrowing before softening.

“And what of you, hm?” She asked gently, her tone losing the sharpness from before. “As one of the People does this give you a different viewpoint? Or do you believe as these frightened boys do?”

 _The People. Not “elf” or “Dalish.”_ Maiara’s eyes widened as she took in the woman’s apparently ramshackle home and appearance. It was all very carefully done, giving the appearance of just another swamp resident, completely harmless and out of the way.

Her feeling of recognition had persisted, leading her to realize the truth.

Daveth was right.

The elf’s brown eyes focused on the witch and she smiled secretively, tilting her head ever so slightly, the way Maiara had seen the Keeper do so many times before.

_Say nothing._

“I…” She spoke slowly, struggling to think of a neutral answer to the question. “I’m not sure what to believe.”

The old woman smiled approvingly. “A statement that possesses more wisdom than it implies. Be always aware… or is it oblivious?” She was appealing to her audience now; back to being the crazy swamp woman. “I can never remember. So much about you is uncertain… and yet I believe. Do I? Why, it seems I do!”

A throaty cackle rang out, causing some of the more skittish ones in their group to jump. Others no longer seemed threatened. All according to plan.

“Sooo, _this_ is a dreaded Witch of the Wilds?” Alistair asked skeptically.

The witch in question seemed to be equally amused. “Witch of the Wilds, eh?” A surprisingly girlish giggle bubbled up. “Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it. Oh, how she dances under the moon!”

Morrigan looked thoroughly embarrassed by her mother’s outburst, cringing from where the older woman could not see and shaking her head.

“Could you clarify whether that’s fact or fancy?” Nereus asked, looking just as amused as the old woman. “She doesn’t strike me as the dancing type.”

Maiara smothered a laugh as Morrigan glared from behind her mother. The old woman’s eyes twinkled as they focused on the mage.

“Careful, young man.” She warned sweetly, moving her smile from him to her daughter. “One does not taunt a cat without expecting claws.”

“They did not come to listen to your wild tales, Mother.” Morrigan snapped, drawing the subject to a close.

Her mother smiled and shrugged. “True, they came for their treaties, yes?”

She turned to enter her hut, leaving Morrigan to scowl over them until she returned. Maiara could hear her rummaging around a bit before the sharp sound of a chest closing rang out.

“Thank you again, Morrigan.” Adora said into the stillness outside. “For bringing us to your mother. I don’t know what we might have done without those treaties.”

Morrigan did her best to hide her surprise. “I imagine your campaign against the darkspawn would be very short lived.”

“You think we’re just gonna roll over at Ostagar?” Leif asked pointedly.

Morrigan’s gaze slid over to him, reminding Maiara of a disinterested cat. “I claim no such thing. I know nothing of military tactics. What I know is that the darkspawn are endless and there are far too few Grey Wardens.”

The sound of the door opening closed further discussion. Morrigan’s mother carried a small wooden box cradled in her thin arms. She presented them to Maiara.

“Take care, Grey Wardens. The threat is greater than you know.” She stepped back to stand beside her daughter before flicking her eyes to Alistair. “And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have _protected_ these.”

The blonde had just opened his mouth in some form of protest that quickly sputtered and died at the old woman’s words.

“You… oh.” He frowned, looking from the box to the witch. “You protected them?”

“And why not?” She said soothingly, taking no offense to his disbelief. “Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blight’s threat is greater than they realize!”

Maiara passed the documents to Alistair, seeing as he was the only real Grey Warden present. Besides, she felt tired.

“What do you mean?” Adora pressed, moving a little closer to Maiara.

 _Did she see me waver?_ It was difficult to tell if she was succeeding at hiding her weariness at this point.

“Either the threat is more or they realize less.” The witch said, as if it were obvious. “Or perhaps the threat is nothing! Or perhaps they realize nothing!” She cackled amusingly, seemingly struggling to form more words. “Oh, do not mind me. You _have_ what you came for!”

“Time for you to _go_ then.” Morrigan said, sounding just a little excited by the prospect of them leaving.

Her mother turned to her, the laughter having tapered off. “Do not be ridiculous, girl. These are your guests.”

Morrigan sighed. “Oh, very well. I will show you out of the woods. Follow me.”

The others readily followed the dark haired mage as she started down the path she’d brought them in on. Maiara waited until they’d mostly passed, all but Adora and Lady, the both of them remaining at her side.

“Ma serannas, Asha’belannar.” Maiara inclined her head in the slightest of bows to the old woman.

The woman glanced between Maiara and Adora before speaking. “Nuva lasa su ma enaste.” Staring intently at Maiara, she then said, “Come, child. You have a long way to go and less time than you know.”

Maiara took a step forward and nearly toppled over. Adora saved her from tripping and helped her over to the witch.

“What are we still doing here?” Adora whispered fearfully, looking over her shoulder.

“She needs my help,” the old woman said, laying a hand against Maiara’s neck. “You are lucky she came so far without succumbing.”

“The sickness from the forest,” Maiara elaborated, feeling the thrum of magic pulsing from the elder woman’s hand. She’d felt tired and _itchy_ just moments before. Now she was beginning to feel invigorated and the strange feeling in her blood was subsiding. “It’s been getting worse. My Keeper blocked most of its effects.”

“Her magic could only hold for so long,” the witch said quietly, stepping back a moment later. “This will be enough. It ends tonight.”

 _The Joining_.

That had to be what she meant, surely.

Before she could thank her again, the witch of the wilds cut her off.

“Do not thank me. It is too soon to see if it is worth it.” There was something in her eyes that Maiara couldn’t identify. The old woman nodded towards the forest. “Go. Your friends will have noticed your absence. Do not keep them waiting.”

Maiara nodded and turned towards the path. “Sule tael tasalal.”

Adora and Lady were already hurrying behind her, but she could still hear the softly spoken words from the woman behind them.

“Dar’eth shiral.”

* * *

 

Morrigan kept to her word and led them out of the forest without incident. The witch seemed to know the Wilds well enough to avoid both darkspawn and wolves. The day had worn on them all and it was clear. While vexing at times, the mage had certainly proven her worth by keeping them out of trouble.

When they were within sight of the gates, she vanished, leaving them alone within view of the lookouts.

“Riiight, because _that_ wasn’t even a little creepy.” Alistair muttered, leading the way to the gates.

“She certainly worked hard on her entrance and exit strategy,” Nereus said admiringly. “Speaking of which, I was wondering if maybe we could just, you know, _not_ mention Morrigan and her mother.”

Alistair turned to face him with a frown. “What? They’re _apostates_!”

“Apostates who _helped_ us, as you may recall!” The mage countered heatedly. “Look, I get it. Templar ‘good’, mage ‘bad’. We would have had _shit_ to bring back without them.”

“I agree.” Maiara said, jumping to his defense.

“So do I.” Adora added.

Lady punctuated her master’s words with a bark.

“They’re _witches_!” Daveth said plaintively. “Do you want them to lay a curse on us for telling on them?”

Alistair’s face melted into the most disbelieving look at Daveth’s words. “You know what?” He shook his head and sighed. “Fine. Alright. They helped, the least we can do is… not _say_ anything.”

“Thank you,” Nereus said earnestly, looking from Alistair to the rest of them. “Really.”

“It would be wrong to turn on someone who helped us just because they’re different.” Adora said.

“Most people don’t consider mages to be just ‘different’ you know.” Nereus said, shaking his head with a small smile as they walked through the gates.

The girl shrugged. “Why, because you have magic? That’s the only difference. You’re still _people_.”

“Not everyone thinks so.”

“Then they’re wrong.”

Maiara wondered what it was like for mages outside the comfort of the Dalish. Her clan had several mages aside from the Keeper and Merrill. She’d never considered them to be any more dangerous than anyone else in the clan. Outsiders seemed to have very different views on mages and she didn’t like any of them.

“Hey, guys, I’ll catch up, alright?” Leif said. “I’ve gotta see a man about a dog.”

“Is that what all those flowers are for?” Nereus asked, watching the dwarf walk off towards the kennels.

Daveth nodded. “Yeah, kennel master was askin’ around about people goin’ into the Wilds. He’s got some sick dogs. Leif was the only one who said he’d help.”

Lady barked happily.

“Well, he’s certainly impressed Lady for doing so.” Adora said, laughing as she scratched her hound’s ears. “If I would have known, I would have helped.”

“Eh, the kid likes to keep things private.” Nereus said knowingly. “He’s not one to ask for help.”

“I’d say that goes for most of us,” Maiara said with a small smile. “Do you think Duncan has a type?”

“Stubborn, charming, deadly, with nothing to lose?” Nereus supplied helpfully. “Well, that describes most of us, I’d say.”

“I can buy it,” Daveth agreed, grinning. “Except for ser knight, here. He’s not charming _and_ he’s got everything to lose!”

Ser Jory grunted dispassionately. “You say that as if it’s a _bad_ thing that I have a life to look forward to.”

“It is.” Daveth insisted, his voice oddly humorless for once. “I don’t think you realize what you’ve gotten yourself into. There’s a reason Wardens recruit men like me.”

“And what is that, exactly?” The knight scoffed.

“It’s a death sentence. You don’t pick up criminals ‘cause you expect them to be heroes and live the good life. We don’t _get_ to go home after this. _If_ we survive.”

The rangy rogue’s words seemed to have a sobering effect on anyone with a smile before. Maiara could see Duncan waiting at the fire, but he hadn’t noticed them yet. They were still far enough that the camp chatter kept them from being too noisy.

“He’s right,” Maiara said softly, sliding her pack from her shoulders. “We weren’t chosen for brave deeds. We have nothing waiting for us back home.

“Now, I’m going to see about selling these pelts. Nereus?”

The mage looked up from the ground and nodded. “Right. We should make a little coin while we can. Who knows what lies ahead?”

Alistair inclined his head to them before they turned away. “The rest of us will be at camp, with Duncan. Don’t take too long. The Joining begins when you return.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t want to miss _that_.”

_I’ll die without it._

* * *

 

Before they’d sold the pelts and spare parts they’d found, the merchant mistook Maiara for Nereus’s servant.

She was surprised by how aggressive the mage had gotten on her behalf. By the end of his tongue lashing, the merchant looked like he was on the verge of tears.

He’d offered them far more than the pelts were worth, as well as a steep discount on the goods they wanted.

On their way back, they ran into Leif. Apparently he’d had the mind to see the merchant as well, although he didn’t receive nearly as much as the two of them.

When they finally joined Duncan and the others, the air had somehow attained a very stale atmosphere.

“Courage?” Daveth sounded startled as they joined the circle of recruits. “How much danger are we in?”

Duncan looked them all over, his brown eyes reflecting the flames nearby. “I will not lie; we Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are. Fate may decree that you pay your price now rather than later.”

The implications were clear.

“You’re saying this ritual can kill us.” Maiara stated bluntly. “I thought you said it was a cure.”

Duncan sighed. “For you, it can be. For the rest… it _can_ kill you. As could any darkspawn you might face in battle.”

“I don’t think I was in any danger of _darkspawn_ if I’d been sent to prison.” Daveth said emphatically.

“I think the hangman would have had something to say on their behalf.” Duncan replied dryly. “You were all chosen, not because of the position I found you in, but because I believe you have what it takes to be a Grey Warden. Those qualities are what I believe give you a chance to survive.”

“A _chance_?” Adora spat. “My parents had a chance and you _left_ them… just so I could die _here_?”

Her words hung heavily in the air, even more so for those who were there.

“Let’s go.” Daveth said quietly. “I think we should just get this over with, before you have any more second-guessers.”

“I agree.” Ser Jory sounded more nervous than ever. “Let’s have it done.”

“I don’t think I have much more time to waste.” Maiara added.

Duncan nodded solemnly. “Then let us begin. Alistair, take them to the old temple.”

The senior Warden split off on his own, leaving them with the nervous looking blonde.

“Well, then.” Alistair said awkwardly, standing straighter and nodding. “Let’s be off.”

* * *

 

The procession to the temple had a funereal aura about it. They walked stoically, silently, as if they were headed to their own graves. Maiara couldn’t be sure, but she thought Adora might be crying.

Alistair led them to an isolated portion of the ruins, cut off from view by so many columns and crumbling walls. Two massive statues holding blades guarded the entrance. The busyness of the camp didn’t seem to be anywhere near the ancient temple. The sound of night chatter, of soldiers preparing for war, slowly died away.

There were no torches in their section of the ruins; only the pale glare of the moon gave them light to see.

Alistair stood silently off to the side while they waited for Duncan. Ser Jory was pacing, his hands twitching. Adora sat beside her hound, leaning against one of the stone columns. Nereus and Leif were speaking quietly together. Daveth stood with his arms crossed, staring up at the moon.

All Maiara could do was watch the others. She didn’t feel as nervous as she thought she would. The idea that she might die was almost a relief. At least then she might know if Tamlen were dead as well.

“The more I hear about this Joining, the less I like it.” Ser Jory said at last, his eyes darting around their assembled few.

Daveth groaned. “Are you blubbering again?”

“Why all these damned tests? Have I not earned my place?” The knight demanded, his words accusing the one not present.

“Maybe it’s tradition. _Maybe_ they’re just trying to annoy you.” Daveth said, a small smirk playing across his lips.

“For a knight, you sure cry a lot.” Nereus said icily. “Do you hear yourself when you talk? You think winning some tame tournament means you’re ready to fight against the _Blight_? You’re a child.”

The knight was growing red in the face over the mage’s callous words. He’d been poked and prodded one too many times, it seemed.

“Calm down.” She said firmly, positioning herself between the two men. “In any case, there’s nothing we can do about it now. We’re here. We’ll find out if it’s worth all the fuss soon enough.”

Ser Jory was gritting his teeth as he spoke. “All I know is that my wife is in Highever with a child on the way. If they had warned me… it just doesn’t seem _fair._ ”

“Would you have come if they’d warned you?” Daveth asked intrusively. “Maybe that’s why they _don’t_. The Wardens do what they must, right?”

“Including _sacrificing_ us?”

Daveth uncrossed his arms, holding them loosely at his sides. “I’d sacrifice a lot more if I knew it would end the Blight.”

“A worthy notion.” Nereus said. “I would do the same.”

“You saw those darkspawn, ser knight.” Daveth added, keeping his eyes trained on the older man. “Wouldn’t you die to protect your pretty wife from them?”

He hesitated.

Daveth continued. “ _Maybe_ you’ll die. Maybe we’ll _all_ die. If nobody stops the darkspawn, we’ll die for sure.”

Maiara wouldn’t have believed it upon meeting him, but Daveth sounded downright noble. He’d joked all day about how he wouldn’t be there if he’d had a choice. He’d been terrified in the presence of Morrigan and her mother. Yet when it came down to possibly dying just so he could have a chance at saving others… he didn’t waver.

If they survived, she would be glad to have him at her side. He was more admirable than she gave him credit for.

Ser Jory sighed, sagging beneath the weight of the decision before him. “I’ve just never faced a foe I could not engage with my blade.”

“It’ll be okay.” Daveth said reassuringly. “Or it won’t. And that’s that.”

That seemed to be enough to settle the debate.

Not a moment too soon, it seemed.

Even small sounds managed to echo around the stone circle they stood in. Footsteps sounded from the ramp leading to the main fort. Duncan stepped into the moonlight, his steps slow and measured as he carried a white chalice in his gauntleted hands. He approached a table fashioned out of a broken column and a slab of stone. The blood they’d collected sat glimmering darkly in the light of the moon.

“At last we come to the Joining.” Duncan intoned sonorously, setting the chalice on the table as he poured liquid from different vials into the cup. He stirred the concoction with a metal rod as he spoke. “The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered their taint.”

Holding the chalice aloft, Maiara could now see that the vials of blood were drained of their contents. She felt sick.

“We’re… going to drink the blood of those… those creatures?” Strangely enough, Ser Jory had the ability to vocalize her feelings.

“As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we did before you.” Duncan confirmed, nodding to the cup. “ _This_ is the source of our power and our victory.”

Alistair stepped forward, joining them near the table. “Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the archdemon.”

“So _this_ is what will kill us?” Leif asked bitterly, staring at the cup as if it were viper. “Darkspawn blood. Everyone knows it’s poisonous. We’ll die like dogs.”

Lady whined, offended.

“No offense.”

“Not all who drink the blood will survive, it’s true.” Duncan said in response to his comment. “Those who _do_ are forever changed. This is why the Joining is a secret. It is the price we pay.

“We speak only a few words prior to the Joining, but these words have been said since the first. Alistair, if you would?”

The junior Warden bowed his head. “Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day _we_ shall join you.”

Silence spread like a flood between them as Duncan looked up from the chalice.

“Daveth, step forward.”

The archer nervously licked his lips. “Gotta set an example, eh?”

“Wait!” Adora cried, stepping in front of him.

Duncan looked surprised, but said nothing. He stared down at the red haired girl, as if wondering what she might do.

“I will be the first,” she explained, straightening her back and planting her feet. “I won’t watch anyone die today.”

Duncan passed the cup into her hands. “From this moment forth, Adora, you are a Grey Warden.”

Saying nothing more, she brought the cup to her lips and drank. She handed the vessel back to Duncan and took a step back, choking.

Lady was barking worriedly and prancing around her master as she stumbled.

Maiara quickly stepped forward to balance her. Adora’s head lolled back and the elf could see her eyes rolled back to the whites. She couldn’t help but gasp as the full weight of the human girl collapsed in her arms. She could see her chest moving ever so slightly as she took shallow breaths.

“Maker’s breath-”

“Is she-”

“She lives.” Maiara said quickly, halting the spread of fear. “She is alive.”

Her words were enough to calm them. Maiara carefully laid her friend onto the stone, taking care with her head. Lady immediately replaced her, licking her master’s face in concern.

“Right, so I think I’ll go while the odds are in my favor.” Daveth said with a nervous laugh. “You wanna pass me that big cup?”

Duncan sighed, handing the chalice over once more. “From this moment forth, Daveth, you are a Grey Warden.”

Daveth took a drink, passing the cup back quickly as he began to choke. Like Adora, he stumbled back, choking as his eyes rolled back into his head. Instead of falling backwards, he lurched forward, landing hard on his palms and knees as he choked. Unlike Adora, he didn’t stop. He clawed at his pale throat, leaving red streaks from his nails as he coughed and sputtered, his eyes rolling wildly and bulging in his sockets.

Maiara made a move to go to his aid, but it was too late. Daveth gave one last rattling cough before collapsing face down against the stone, dead.

“I am sorry, Daveth.” Duncan said lowly, bowing his head.

Maiara was no longer looking at the corpse of the surprisingly noble thief. She was watching the knight slowly backing away in horror. She’d been on enough hunts to recognize his movements as prey about to flee.

Duncan noticed, too. He turned towards the knight, holding the cup before him like an offering. “Step forward, Jory.”

Ser Jory’s eyes frantically darted around as he slowly backed away from the Warden. Duncan sighed, setting the cup on the table just as the knight drew his sword.

“I… I have a wife.” He pleaded, holding the blade in front of him like a ward against evil. “A child! Had I known…”

“Coward.” Nereus hissed, his hand twitching against the elegant staff he carried.

“ _Shut up!_ ” Ser Jory snarled, swiveling to face the mage before turning back to Duncan. “Just _shut up!_ What do _you_ know?! Please, Duncan. Don’t make me _do_ this.”

“There is no turning back.” Duncan said with finality.

“No! You ask too much! There is no glory in this!” He was almost completely backed against a wall now.

Duncan watched him warily before drawing a long, curved dagger from his belt. Jory lunged forward, hoping to catch him off guard, but the Warden was quick. He deftly parried the other man’s heavy blow, turning the blade aside and swooping in to sink his dagger into a weak point in Jory’s armor.

“I am sorry.” He said somberly, digging the blade deeper and twisting.

Maiara stood silently with Leif and Nereus, watching the look of shock on Jory’s face melt into a death mask before Duncan let his body drop.

“Three down; three to go.” Nereus joked blandly. “Cup or death? Drink or die? Drink _and_ die if you’re-”

“I believe it is my turn.” Maiara cut in, watching as Duncan cleaned his blade before returning to the table. “If someone might be so kind as to stop me from cracking my skull on the stone – dead or not – I would be grateful.”

“Get rid of that big sword and we have a deal.” The mage said with a smile.

Maiara drew her sword and placed it on the table. Duncan didn’t even flinch. She held her hand out for the chalice and looked to Nereus.

“Behave yourself.” She said flatly.

He quietly moved to stand behind her, leaning his staff against the table. “On your life.”

“From this moment forth, Maiara, you are a Grey Warden.”

Maiara brought the cold cup to her lips and drank.

It _burned_ going down her throat, like the manise she shared with Tamlen during winter solstice. Unlike the fruity drink she’d enjoyed, the blood of the Joining tasted like ashes and rotten meat. It _tasted_ the way the darkspawn smelled, the way the ruins smelled.

She didn’t remember returning the vessel to Duncan, but she was coughing, choking, trying to spit the taste out like fire on her tongue.

Everything was so _loud_. There were whispers, but they were screaming in her head, crawling out of her ears, enveloping her very mind.

Maiara tried closing her eyes, but she could feel them stinging in the cold air, open, blind.

* * *

 

Oh, but she could still _see._

Such rage; dark, against a poisoned sky.

A roar like thunder crashed against her soul.

The rhythm of a hurricane beat against her heart as it _pulled_ her into the shadows.

Eyes flashed like lightning, drawing her in deeper, deeper until she was screaming silently against its cold flesh

Cold like the stone, like the dead

Like steel, like bones, teeth gnashing

Who was singing? Or were they screaming?

She was falling.

* * *

 

“Please, please wake up.” A small voice was whispering beside her.

Maiara moved her head and realized it was resting in someone’s lap. She opened her eyes and saw Adora’s concerned face hovering above hers.

The girl’s grey eyes widened and she sat straighter. “Oh, thank the Maker! Thank you!”

Maiara sat up slowly, wary of a potential headache. Other than some slight queasiness, she felt fine. In fact, she felt better than fine. Her blood no longer felt like it was going to crawl out of her skin.

“How long was I out?” She asked calmly, looking around to survey the damage.

Daveth and Jory were gone. Only a bloodstain remained of the knight.

There was a massive bonfire roaring nearby. Judging by the size of it, she could take a guess about where their bodies had gone.

“Not long,” Adora said quietly, wiping at her eyes. “I woke up maybe half an hour ago. I saw… Leif and Nereus are still out.”

Maiara nodded, having spotted the two men lying not far. She could hear them breathing quietly, but by all appearances they looked dead.

“Where is Duncan? And Alistair?” She wondered aloud, seeing no sign of either Warden.

 _I am one of them._ She reminded herself. _We are all Wardens now._

“There’s a war council. They want us to join when we’re all up.”

“I see…” She steadily rose to her feet and moved to the table to retrieve her sword. The chalice and the vials were gone.

“Are you alright?” Adora asked, moving to stand beside her as she stared into the fire.

Maiara paused to consider her question before nodding. “Yes. I am alright. I’m not sick… that’s good, right?”

The redhead smiled shakily. “Yes, that’s good.”

“Then I’m alright.” She said again, looking back into the flames.

 _I am a Grey Warden_.

Her life was not over. It felt strangely like it was just beginning.

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I was out for a month. Comic Con called and I had to prepare.
> 
> Translation Notes:
> 
> Once more I’m using a few things from Project Elvhen.
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3553883/chapters/7825850
> 
> Nuva lasa su ma enaste – “May it grant you favor.”
> 
> Sule tael tasalal – “Until we met again.”
> 
> Manise – “fire water”


	24. It's a Long Way to the Top

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nereus and Alistair tackle the Tower of Ishal.

\-------------------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 9th

\-------------------------------------

 

Fire burned down his throat and his mind went blank with pain.

He was dreaming, a nightmare, but not the Fade.

How was it possible?

A jagged silhouette against a sick green sky. Closer…

It _looked_ at him.

* * *

 

 

Nereus woke with a scream trapped in his throat.

The feeling subsided quickly and he let out the breath he’d been holding. _It looked at me…_ It was the archdemon. He knew it. It looked like a dragon, but it was _not_ a dragon. Not that he’d ever seen one up close or anything… but there was something _wrong_ about the way that thing looked. It was like staring into the abyss.

The fear of such a sight must have been enough to wake him.

 _How is it possible to dream outside the Fade?_ He wondered if perhaps he was mistaken. Maybe it  _was_ the Fade on some level or another. He couldn't possibly be seeing something like that any other way... could he? It was a question to ask Duncan, he supposed.

The mage carefully assessed his surroundings as he slowly sat up. He was still in the old temple. _They_ were still in the old temple. He’d been the last to wake. Adora, Lady, Maiara, and Leif sat nearby watching him.

“Finally.” Leif said gruffly, pushing up to his feet and dusting himself off. “Thought you’d never get up.”

“Did you all…” He wasn’t sure if he should ask. It _had_ to be a Warden thing, though.

“See?” Adora asked quietly, stroking her hound’s short fur. “Yes…  Duncan said that’s the start of it. Of sensing the darkspawn.”

He sighed. “Great. I hope it’s not something we have to see _every_ night. I actually _like_ my normal dreams, thank you.”

Taking a cue from Leif, he rose from the cold stone and righted himself. A quick look about led him to his staff. He felt safer with its wooden weight in hand.

“So… I don’t see our illustrious leader. Where did our senior Wardens get off to?”

They were all standing now. Adora held something out to him. “They’re waiting for us. Alistair gave me these…”

He held his hand out and she dropped a vial on a cord into his open palm. It looked similar to a phylactery.

“It’s from the Joining.” She explained. “They put some of the blood in the pendant to keep as a reminder of…” she looked towards a blood stain that he knew belonged to the former Ser Jory. “It’s for those who didn’t make it.”

She’d gone first so she wouldn’t have to see anyone die. He’d seen the fire blazing nearby. Hopefully they’d gotten rid of the bodies before she woke up. He knew they’d all be seeing more than a few deaths, but it was a small mercy. She was young, he knew, but it was a lot of growing up for all of them.

He placed the amulet around his neck and knew it was enchanted. It was more than a sentimental accessory, apparently.

“You said they’re waiting for us? Let’s not keep them waiting.”

* * *

 

 

As they approached, the sound of men arguing floated toward them on the chill spring air.

Nereus recalled passing through the area earlier that day (and taking a nice peek into one of the chests). The table had been barren before, the fires had been left untended and had simmered down to embers. Now the table was surrounded by people of various backgrounds and its surface was covered in maps, documents, markers and drinks. The fires were blazing fiercely, but still they remained unable to beat back the shadows entirely.

The young king in his golden armor was smiling arrogantly at an older man in polished silverite armor. The differences between them were many and they easily spilled out into the argument between them.

The older man was clearly battle hardened and tested. He knew what the men out there would be risking. The king was young, idealistic, and full of stories of valor and triumph over evil.

“You risk too much, Cailan!” The older man was shouting now as Nereus and the rest of their group lined up behind Duncan and Alistair. “The darkspawn horde is too dangerous for you to be playing hero on the front lines.”

The king smiled cunningly. “If that’s the case, perhaps we should wait for the Orlesian forces to join us, after all.”

That seemed to rile up his guardian even more.

Nereus stared at the dark haired man in plate, trying to recall if he’d been pointed out to him during his short time at Ostagar. Finally, pieces fit together in his mind. He could only be Teyrn Loghain, the man Duncan had said they were depending on. He doubted anyone else would be speaking to the king in such a manner.

Loghain visibly suppressed a growl. “I must repeat my protest to your fool notion that we need the _Orlesians_ to defend ourselves!”

At last the king dropped his boyish demeanor, his face hardening as Loghain turned his back on him. “It’s _not_ a ‘fool notion.’” He insisted coolly. “Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past… and you will remember who is king.”

The general rubbed at his forehead tiredly. “How fortunate Maric did not live to see his son ready to hand Ferelden over to those who enslaved us for a century!”

The king was silent for a moment before he turned back to the war table. “Then our current forces will have to suffice, won’t they.” He looked up sharply, his blue eyes homing in on the cluster of Wardens across from him. “Duncan, are your men ready for battle?”

Nereus had slid up to take the place at Duncan’s right while Alistair stood to his left; the others stood silently behind them.

Duncan nodded. “They are, your Majesty.”

King Cailan smiled as his eyes glanced over their group. “These are the recruits I met earlier on the road? I understand congratulations are in order.”

As the former recruit that was front and center, so to speak, Nereus smiled charmingly and inclined his head in a small bow. “Indeed, and thank you, your Majesty. It was a trial by fire and I am proud to say that my companions and I came out on top.”

The golden man’s smile spread to his eyes. “I am not surprised to hear it. Every Grey Warden is needed now. You should be honored to join their ranks.”

Loghain had returned his focus to the war table, only to shake his head at the king’s words. “Your fascination with glory and legends will be your undoing, Cailan. We must attend to reality.”

Sharing a pained smile with Nereus before he turned to his general, the king shrugged his shoulders, causing the golden plate to roll with the motion. He obviously didn’t wear the armor entirely for show. He seemed very comfortable in it.

“Fine. Speak your strategy.” He leaned over the table, looking down at the map of the battlefield. “The Grey Wardens and I draw the darkspawn into charging our lines and then…?”

All business now, Loghain leaned in beside the young king, his hand hovering over one of the markers. “You will alert the tower to light the beacon, signaling my men to charge from cover.”

The king nodded. “To flank the darkspawn, I remember.” He pointed to the marker near Loghain’s hand. “This is the Tower of Ishal in the ruins, yes? Who shall light the beacon?”

“I have a few men stationed there. It’s not a dangerous task, but it _is_ vital.”

King Cailan smiled, still looking over the map. “Then we should send our best.” He looked up to the Wardens again. “Send Alistair and one of the new Wardens to make sure it’s done.”

“You mean we won’t be in the battle?” Maiara said quietly from the rear, low enough that no one beyond their group would hear.

Duncan turned to speak with her, but they were no longer Nereus’s concern.

Loghain and the king were arguing again, it seemed.

“You rely on these Grey Wardens too much.” The general said lowly. “Is that truly wise?”

The king scoffed. “ _Enough_ of your conspiracy theories, Loghain. Grey Wardens battle the Blight, no matter where they’re from.”

Duncan stepped forward again. “Your Majesty, you should consider the possibility of the archdemon appearing.”

Nereus’s mind flashed back to the nightmare he felt upon waking. He suppressed a shudder, doing his best to focus on the present.

“There have been no signs of any dragons in the Wilds.” Loghain said shortly.

“Isn’t that what your men are here for, Duncan?” The king asked lightly.

“I… yes, your Majesty.”

 _He’s right_ , Nereus realized belatedly. _They see the darkspawn as a threat, but they don’t fear the Blight._

How could they? They were not the ones who saw darkness pooled in a single maw, teeth gnashing like blades, eyes blazing with an unknowable fury… They could not know the threat was greater than they believed.

Like a snake slithering out of the weeds, a familiar mage appeared beside the king, drawing everyone’s attention from the awkward moment.

“Your Majesty,” Uldred’s oily voice dripped along Nereus’s skin like sludge. “The tower and its beacon are unnecessary. The Circle of Magi-”

A Chantry priest cut him off, distrust plain in her voice. “We will not trust any lives to your spells, _mage_! Save them for the darkspawn!”

“Enough!” Loghain’s voice cut in, forcing both sides to slink back from the war table. “This plan will suffice. The Grey Wardens will light the beacon.”

The king recovered from his shock quickly. “Thank you, Loghain.” His genuine moment over, his face split into an excited grin. “I cannot wait for that glorious moment! The Grey Wardens battling beside the king of Ferelden to stem the tide of evil!”

Nereus wondered if the king was truly that blind to the danger or if it was simply bravado made up to inspire others. It was a tough call. Obviously he’d been at Ostagar long enough to know the darkspawn were no laughing matter. If it _was_ an act, it certainly came easily…

Loghain had turned to leave, muttering something under his breath. He seemed exhausted. Whether that was from dealing with the king or from the battle to come, he couldn’t begin to guess.

It was their cue to leave. Duncan began shepherding the rest of their group away as the king chatted excitedly with some of the soldiers present. Nereus scanned the cluster of faces for the one he loathed and found that Uldred had already returned to the shadows.

“Nereus,” Duncan called.

He turned to follow. Uldred would have to be a worry for another time.

* * *

 

 

They returned to their original camp. The fire in the center of the columns seemed brighter than the ones at the war table, but it wasn’t any more comforting.

Duncan waited for their attention before speaking. They were all jittery after the Joining, even more so after the displays at the war table. It was clear that the leadership was fractured. Nereus didn’t know anything about military strategy, but he was sure that people weren’t supposed to question the general about his plan.

“You heard the plan.” Duncan said at last, looking over each of them. “One of you will accompany Alistair to the Tower of Ishal to ensure the beacon is lit.”

“Me.” Nereus volunteered immediately. Not that he thought anyone else would be interested. “I’ll go. Just in case the flint doesn’t work, hm?”

He didn’t like Uldred trying to insert himself. He needed to be sure that everything went as planned.

“What? We’re seriously going along with that plan?” Alistair asked.

Duncan sighed. “This is by the king’s personal request, Alistair.”

“As if he’ll know whether I was there or not?” His face was determined. “Duncan, please. I know I can be of more use in the battle.”

Their commander was immovable, as usual. “Alistair, if the beacon is not lit, Teyrn Loghain’s men won’t know when to charge.”

“So he needs two Grey Wardens standing up there holding the torch.” Alistair intoned bitterly. “Just in case, right?”

“There is always room for error, even in the most well laid plans.” Duncan countered. “I trust everyone here, but among them _you_ are the senior Warden. This must be done right.”

“What about the rest of us?” Maiara asked. “Are we to stay behind as well?”

“Not all of you.” Duncan said softly. He toyed with his beard a moment before continuing. “As I said, even the most well laid plans may go awry. I do not know how this battle will go. What I _do_ know, is that we cannot afford to lose everything if _anything_ should go wrong. The treaties you recovered from the Wilds _must_ be protected at all costs. If we should fail here this night…” He sighed. “Leif and Adora will keep the treaties with them and survey the battle from safety. If there is any sign that it is turning against us, you must go. Leif, I imagine you already scouted an alternate route out of the fortress?”

The dwarf nodded. “Spent half the morning lookin’ for a way out. I can do it.”

Duncan nodded. “I thought as much. Adora, I need you to uphold the treaties. You’ll know what to do.”

Easily the youngest of them, the pale girl nodded slowly. “I… yes. Do you think we’ll have to…?”

The commander’s eyes were somber. “I don’t know. I hope not. Just in case… I’m trusting you. The fate of the world will be in your hands.”

Before he continued, Duncan went through his own supplies and brought forth the chest containing the treaties. He handed it to Adora, who placed it among her own possessions.

“What of myself?” Maiara asked impatiently.

Duncan looked down at the wiry elf and smiled. “You’ll be with me. I’m afraid that three Wardens might be one too many to sneak out of a battleground.”

Nereus watched emotions flicker through the elf’s dark eyes. Acceptance settled in and she nodded.

Alistair seemed to be the most unhappy with the way of things.

“You’re taking her instead of me.” It wasn’t a question.

Duncan looked at him with some emotion Nereus couldn’t identify. Whatever it was, it was clear the he cared for the younger Warden.

“Yes. You have your orders, Warden.”

Alistair sighed. “Great. Torch duty.”

His serious face tightened slightly into a small smile. “We must do whatever it takes to destroy the darkspawn… exciting or no.”

“I get it, I get it.” Alistair grumbled. “Just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I’m drawing the line. Darkspawn or no.”

There were a few chuckles exchanged among their air of melancholy.

“I’d pay to see that.” Nereus said jokingly.

Alistair rolled his eyes. “Not for all the gold in Ferelden.”

“I’d get you the most flattering dress available. Custom made.”

The blonde tilted his head, as if he were considering it. “Hmm… nah.”

Nereus shrugged in defeat. “Ah, well. It was worth a shot.”

Duncan sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead as he tried to disguise the smile that had returned.

Having regained his composure, Duncan continued. “The tower is on the other side of the gorge from the king’s camp, the way we came when we arrived.”

“The area was blocked off, as I recall.” Nereus said, his mind going back to that long walk that led them to Ostagar.

“You recall correctly.” Duncan confirmed. “You’ll need to cross the gorge and head through the gate and up to the tower entrance. From the top, you’ll overlook the entire valley.”

“Sounds like quite the view! When do we get to the part about lighting the beacon?” He didn’t want to miss the signal, after all.

“We will signal you when the time is right. Alistair will know what to look for.”

“I will?”

“ _Yes_.”

Nereus smiled at the exchange. “Excellent. It seems we have our plan, then. Is there anything else…?”

“Can we join the battle _after_ we light the beacon?” Alistair asked hopefully.

Duncan shook his head. “Stay with the teyrn’s men and guard the tower. If you are needed, we will send word.”

“It’s settled,” Nereus said evenly. “We’ll go to the tower. Leif and Adora are Plan B and Maiara goes off to war. How we’ve all grown.”

Leif snorted. “Yeah, it’s been a long time. I think I’ll retire after this.”

“I like the way you think! Duncan, what do you say to a group vacation after this whole Blight business?”

“I say you’re paying.” The older Warden said smoothly. “Now, if we’re done here…”

“I believe we are.”

“Then Maiara and I must join the others.” He said, quickly packing up his gear. “From here, you are on your own. Remember, you are Grey Wardens. I expect you to be worthy of the title.”

“So when do we get the fancy uniforms?” Nereus asked as Maiara and Duncan turned to go.

Duncan sighed. “Alistair, take them by the armory. I suppose you should look the part.”

“Of course.”

The commander nodded. “Whatever happens… I’m proud of you. You have all overcome something horrible. You’re part of something bigger than yourselves now and I know you’ll perform admirably. It is an honor to have fought beside each of you.”

“Duncan…” Alistair blurted hesitantly. “May the Maker watch over you.”

“May He watch over us all.”

* * *

 

 

By the time they arrived in the Grey Warden camp, it was beginning to empty. Duncan had taken Maiara off ahead of them and gotten her fitted and battle ready just in time for them to watch her march off with the rest of the Wardens.

“Hey, Alistair! What’re you doin’ standin’ around, boy? There’s darkspawn to kill!” A Warden bellowed jovially as he went by.

Alistair grimaced and shouted back. “King’s business!” Muttering under his breath, he added, “I’m an errand boy tonight.”

“I’ll save a few hurlocks for you!” His friend was already well past them, but he certainly had a pair of lungs.

“Ogres or nothing!” He countered, grinning despite his complaints.

They heard a few laughs echoing back to them and they continued on their way.

“You seem to have a lot of friends among the Wardens,” Adora remarked offhand.

Alistair smiled. “I do. They’re good men. Well, most of them. Mads there was in prison for killing some men in a bar brawl… he’s not so bad, as long as we keep him away from the conscription ale.”

“Conscription ale? I feel like we’re missing out on a lot of tradition here.” Nereus sulked.

“Can’t argue with that.” Alistair said grimly as they approached the armory. “You’re the first batch of new Wardens we’ve had since the start of the Blight. I was in the last before you and there was no sign of this… it was nice. A real brotherhood. Er, well, not strictly brothers. Obviously. There were a few women at Weisshaupt.”

Alistair had a few words with the armorer and the man set to work, quickly pulling Nereus aside from the others. He was taken away from the group where he, sadly, couldn’t hear whatever words were shared between them.

* * *

 

 

After much poking, prodding, disrobing, and trying on various pieces of armor, Nereus was ready. It had taken less time than the walk to camp, but he was satisfied with the outcome. Now he _really_ looked the part.

Leif was being pulled aside as he walked over to join Alistair and Adora. The two were smiling and talking quietly while Adora occasionally looked away to scratch Lady’s ears. The dog seemed just as attentive to the conversation as the humans.

“Well,” Nereus said, stealing the moment from the two of them. “Am I a Grey Warden now?”

Adora turned her smile on him. She was still overly pale and her freckles stood out darker than ever, but she seemed less hollow than before.

“You look very dashing. The colors suit you.” She said after a moment’s appraisal.

The mage grinned. “Of course I do! You’ll look just as lovely, I’m sure. You won’t even have to change your color palette.”

Her smile dimmed slightly as she touched her armored chest. “I… I think I’ll stick with this a bit longer.”

Nereus placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Also a good choice.” He looked up to Alistair. “Shall we go?”

The blonde nodded. “Right. Adora, stick with Leif. We’ll see you when this is over.”

“Good luck,” she said to both of them, but smiling far more at the senior Warden.

“To you, as well.” Nereus squeezed her shoulder and started off towards the tower with his new companion at his side.

He could hear the distant sounds of thunder. If he did see battle that night, the rain would make for an excellent conductor for his spells.

* * *

 

 

“Sooo, darkspawn.” Nereus said as they wound their way through the tower of Ishal.

 

The battle had begun before they’d had a chance to cross the chasm. He’d looked over the edge only to see the massive darkspawn – ogres, he supposed – throwing boulders up at the bridge. _Boulders._ They were _throwing_ them like they were pebbles! He couldn’t see just how massive they were – they were far beyond his field of vision – but they were immensely strong.

They’d barely made it across for all the damage coming their way. When he’d looked over his shoulder, the bridge was in shambles. It still held, somehow. If they all survived, a lot of repairs would need to be done if they were to stand another assault.

When they’d made it to the ramp that would take them to the tower, they were intercepted by some of Loghain’s men, telling them that the tower was taken by darkspawn.

“Of _course_ it is.” Nereus had said, exasperated.

Pressing the men into joining them, they’d fought through dozens of the creatures before actually making it to the tower proper.

Things were _not_ looking up.

More darkspawn had greeted them in the entryway, naturally. They weren’t smart enough to use _all_ of the tower’s defenses against them, but they certainly tried. One of the soldiers with them set off a tripwire, causing fire to blast across the floor. As if they’d needed _more_ fire. Most of the wooden barriers in the tower had been set aflame.

When they’d finally fought through the first wave in the tower, Nereus had decided to ask a few questions.

 

“Yes, darkspawn.” Alistair sighed. “I get it. ‘Good thing there were two Grey Wardens on hand!’”

“Well, yes.” Nereus laughed lightly, picking through a chest stashed against a wall and pocketing the contents. “What I mean to ask is why there are so many different ones. I heard mention of hurlocks and ogres? Those big ones with the horns are obviously ogres.”

“Oh, right. I forget most people don’t learn about darkspawn breeds.” He kept his sword and shield at the ready in case there were any more surprises. “Most of what we’ve been fighting is hurlocks and genlocks. The short ones are genlocks. There’s another kind you haven’t seen yet, we call shrieks. You’ll know why when you see them.”

“There are four kinds of darkspawn? That’s… a lot.” Nereus frowned as they continued through the tower.

“Yes, that tends to be the problem with darkspawn. The numbers.”

They checked every door and hall, clearing the way with blades and magic. The most trouble was with the darkspawn mages, but Alistair seemed to handle them pretty well with his templar abilities. Nereus had seen templars subdue mages – for _fun_ , not because they were a danger – and it didn’t bring back any good memories. The only thing he could take solace in was that Alistair was on _his_ side and the darkspawn didn’t seem to know how to handle him.

The soldiers with them weren’t doing so well, though. They sustained more injuries than them and Nereus had to feign a lack of healing abilities when they asked. Alistair had given him a weird look, but said nothing. He must have recalled Nereus’s comments from the Wilds about conserving mana for spells.

Another unfortunate thing about the soldiers was that they griped whenever he went through corpses and boxes in a search for treasure and supplies. When he’d supplied them with a few healing poultices, they’d ceased their judgement.

They finally cleared the entire first floor and were left staring at the large door that led to the next section of the tower. There had been a _lot_ more resistance in the last few rooms. Not to mention they’d found the source of the darkspawn’s break in. A gaping hole in the base of the tower led to what looked like the Void, but was probably just some old access tunnels. It was too difficult to see in the dim light of the tower.

“Maker’s breath!” Alistair breathed when the last of the darkspawn fell. “What are these darkspawn doing ahead of the rest of the horde? There wasn’t supposed to be _any_ resistance here!”

“I’m not sure, Alistair.” Nereus said, pocketing some silvers left sitting on a table left unturned by the chaos. “You _could_ try telling them they’re in the wrong place. I’m sure they’d feel embarrassed if they knew.”

“Right. Because _clearly_ this is all just a misunderstanding. We’ll laugh about this later.”

“Are you two _mad_?” One of the soldiers gasped, holding a poultice to his side. “Who _care’s_ why they’re here! You’re Wardens! You should… you should _do_ something about it!”

Nereus turned a sunny smile on the man who’d spoken. “We _are_ doing something about it. We’re killing them, aren’t we?”

“They shouldn’t have broken through! You should have warned us!”

The mage laughed, turning from the man to look through another darkspawn corpse. “Yes, we should have warned you. Because the Grey Wardens are known for their precognitive abilities, are they not?”

“Nereus…”

“Did you know your general didn’t _want_ any Grey Wardens at the tower?” He asked snidely, ignoring Alistair’s warning. “He was practically foaming at the mouth when the king suggested it. He would have left you all to die at the hands of these monsters. You’re _lucky_ the king thinks so highly of the order. Otherwise there would have been no hope of turning this battle.

Now… why don’t you two stay here and guard the scary hole while we go and light the beacon. I’m sure there are _plenty_ more darkspawn between here and there. Sound good?”

The bloodied soldiers could only stare indignantly. Nereus bared his teeth in a parting smile before turning to the stairs. Whatever was on the other side of the door wouldn’t be pretty.

* * *

 

 

The darkspawn had redecorated.

The rotund room was the sight of a massacre. The men who’d been housed in the tower while guarding it were strewn across the room like so much meat and debris. Severed heads were posted on spears stabbed through mauled bodies at regular intervals around a fire. Staked up near the fire was another body with bones and spikes crowning the head like a strange crown.

The smell… it was bad. Nereus had never smelled anything so horrible, even with all the death he’d been privy to since leaving the tower.

The soldiers had not followed them.

“You know… I think it’s best that they stayed behind.” Nereus said, stepping around the bodies torn asunder.

“I hope so.” Alistair said darkly. “I don’t like this. We may be outnumbered.”

Nereus smiled. “Oh, I doubt it. You and I are clearly just powering through this ourselves. Those men were slowing us down.”

“Those men are going to die because of what they fought through beside us!”

Nereus turned to look at him, his eyes as cold as the ice that danced at his fingertips. “They were going to die either way. Whether they stood outside like slack jawed cowards, joined the rest of the army, or joined us. Not everyone is made to survive war.”

“How can you…” Alistair started angrily before stopping himself. “Never mind. This isn’t the place. We need to reach the beacon. I only hope we’re not too late.”

* * *

 

 

As they charged through the rest of the tower, Nereus made it a point to go in side-by-side with the former templar, not letting the other man’s abilities deter him. He was in the front lines just as much as Alistair, smashing his staff in the faces of darkspawn that got too close and blasting them with frost when he could. If he could attack distant darkspawn while Alistair charged to meet them, then he did so, sometimes taking down half of them before the other Warden even reached them.

He spent less time picking through chests and over corpses, only doing so if Alistair was taking a moment to catch his breath or if they were in desperate need of health poultices; which was more often than he would have liked.

They continued on, checking each room and unveiling new horrors from the monsters. Nereus could hardly believe the time and effort the darkspawn had taken into destroying the tower. Slaying the former inhabitants wasn’t enough, it seemed. They had to tear down all signs of order and debase the bodies they’d strewn across the ground. It was utter chaos born of darkness and rage of unknowable depths.

At some point he heard barking. A _lot_ of barking. They entered another room where darkspawn were just beginning to encroach on a group of caged war hounds.

“Distract them.” He said shortly before running for the cages.

“ _Distract_ them?!” Alistair bellowed in alarm, leaping at the nearest hurlock.

Nereus cast a flimsy barrier around himself as he ran and whenever he sensed something too close, he let off a sharp mind blast to set them back. Finally, he reached the lever that unlocked the cages.

The hounds charged, ripping into the darkspawn as soon as they were free, tearing into them with snarls and howls.

Nereus turned in time to block a genlock’s blade. The creature snarled blackly before taking another swipe at him. He thrust it back with a wave of his staff and a push of power. It slammed against a wall before starting back at him. He aimed his staff and twisted his fingers into a fist, crushing it with telekinetic force magic.

After that, it was just clean up after the damage the hounds had done. Several of them didn’t make it through the assault and had to be put out of their misery.

“They’ll only die more slowly if we don’t do this.” Nereus explained, revealing a dagger he’d placed in his boot.

Alistair looked away.

The rest of the hounds waited patiently, some of them whimpering over the loss of their own. Nereus turned to them when he was done dealing with the grievously wounded. He couldn’t waste his mana on the energy that went into healing, not unless it was for him or Alistair.

“Alright, you all look like mabari, so let’s get something straight.” He said, talking to the dogs that were clearly listening. “You’ve probably fought darkspawn before. Your owners were killed by them and you’re all that’s left in this whole tower. There are more and they’re not going to stop here. Help us stop them.”

“Um, how smart _are_ these dogs?” Alistair asked warily as the dogs howled solemnly.

“Pretty damn smart, according to Duncan and Adora.” Nereus said, leading them down another hall. Doors were opening ahead and darkspawn were revealing themselves, only to be torn down by the charging mabari hounds. “Duncan said he knew a mabari Grey Warden.”

“He did _not_!” Alistair laughed. “He must have been joking.”

Nereus sent a blast of winter towards the nearest darkspawn, freezing it solid. He shoved it out of the way and it shattered when it hit the ground.

“I don’t think he was joking. He sounded very serious when he was telling his little story.” The dogs were easily pulling their weight, but the darkspawn were still cutting them down. He felt bad for using them as fodder for the blighted creatures, but if it helped them on their way then it was worth it.

Alistair had taken down another couple of genlocks while they were talking. “That’s… weird. I can’t believe he never told me that.”

“Probably thought you wouldn’t believe him.” Nereus said with a smirk.

“Probably.” He agreed shortly, engaging a massive hurlock.

The hounds were all dead.

The hurlock held a maul as long as Nereus was tall and it knew how to use it. It was swinging it around savagely, taking out decent chunks of the walls every time it missed the Warden that was nimbly dodging its swings. It was moving so much that Alistair barely had a chance to strike.

Nereus frowned, watching its jerking movements. He’d studied many spells, but until taking on the spiders with Leif and eventually joining up with Duncan, he’d never had a chance to use them in the field. He knew how they were supposed to work in theory, but he wasn’t sure he could use certain spells properly.

Concentrating on the hurlock’s movements again, Nereus aimed his staff and drew upon his knowledge. The effect was so minute at first that he wasn’t sure it had worked. Then, slowly but surely, the hurlock _slowed_ almost as if it were wading through water.

It gave Alistair the advantage he needed. Easily stepping out of the way of the maul, he lopped the darkspawn’s head clean from its shoulders. The spell broke and the body collapsed quickly, spraying blood in abundance on its way down.

Nereus looked down the hall over the line of canine and darkspawn corpses. He’d have to check each hound to be sure they weren't suffering. It was the least he could do.

* * *

 

 

At last, they made it to the top.

They burst in through the door expecting as much resistance as the last few times they’d entered a new floor. What greeted them instead was… light.

A large fire blazed in the center of the room, but it was _not_ the beacon that needed to be lit. Beside the fire was a large, hulking shape that Nereus had trouble focusing on for a moment. The ogre was huge, easily twice the height of any man and terrifying. Not because he’d seen its face. No, it was because he could _hear_ it. It was _eating._ It didn’t seem to care that they’d entered the room at all.

_Does a wolf pay any attention to prey when it has a rabbit in its maw?_

Nereus shook his head and straightened. He was _not_ prey.

Aiming his staff, he took a breath and hit it with a crushing prison, forming a fist as a focus. He could _see_ the telekinetic cage form around the beast, but it did nothing more than slow it.

And draw its attention.

“Shit.”

The ogre slowly turned, dropping the ravaged corpse from its great hands. Its face was smeared with blood and fluids and Nereus was sure he could see a flap of skin hanging from its filthy maw. It stood, drawing up to its full height – _way_ taller than he’d first thought – and let out a spittle infused roar of mindless rage.

Nereus immediately ran for one of the walls, hoping to circle around and get out of its line of sight.

“What are you doing?!” Alistair shouted, drawing the ogre's attention as it charged.

“Finding a safe place to cast! I’m no good to you as a smear on the stone!” He yelled back, skidding to a halt behind a pillar.

Aiming again, he focused instead on entropy. It wasn’t his specialty, but that paralysis spell had done _something_  to the hurlock from before. The least he could do was try to weaken the monster just a little.

He wasn’t sure if it was working. He could feel the spell, feel the strange wave of sickness roll out from himself and _touch_ the creature, but he couldn’t see any visible effects. Perhaps another spell…

Alistair was performing amazingly, at the least. The ogre was making a lot of fuss about the warrior that constantly danced out of its reach, only to lunge forward to slash at the weak points in its crudely crafted armor.

 _Who_ makes _armor that large, anyway?_ Nereus wondered, forming the cool pressure of winter’s grasp and pooling it around the darkspawn’s legs. He could at least see the frost crawling up its thick limbs, slowing it ever so slightly and causing its attention to drop down to the chilling sensation. He wasn’t sure how, but the creature seemed to know where the attack had come from. It turned its ire to him, howling with rage as it stumbled forward, pulling itself free from the frost and leaving behind layers of thick hide.

“ _Shit!_ ”

Abandoning his hiding place, Nereus took to running as the ogre chased after him. He couldn’t keep track of what Alistair was doing any more, but he assumed the other Warden was doing his best to draw the ogre’s attention back to himself. While he was apparently failing to do so, Nereus ran, looking over his shoulder upon occasion to make sure he was well out of the creature’s reach.

Running was _tiring_ after more than a few seconds, though. He could already feel his lungs burning and his legs cramping. He wasn’t used to quite that much effort yet. If only he’d had more opportunities to run laps around the Circle’s meager yard before they’d stopped outdoor exercises…

When he was a decent ways ahead of the ogre, he turned to fire a more powerful burst of winter’s grasp, throwing most of his power into the cold spell. A spray of fine icy crystals coated the behemoth and spread like water filling cracks, encrusting its entire form in a sheet of ice. It stopped in its tracks, frozen in place by the force of the spell. Already cracks were beginning to form and steam was pouring off every inch as the ice began to give.

It stayed in place long enough for Nereus to take cover once more and watch as Alistair charged up to the ogre, impaling it with his blade and shoving its semi-frozen form to the ground. The last of the ice shattered around it as it crashed to the floor, bellowing in rage and pain as it was stabbed again and again. Alistair let out a shout of triumph as he drove his blade home in the creature’s skull, killing it at last.

Creeping out from cover (after checking through the barrels nearby for goodies, of course), Nereus looked over the felled darkspawn as Alistair pulled his sword free.

“Wow… is this normal for you or are you just that good?” Nereus asked shakily, trying to inject something other than horror into the formerly terrible situation.

Alistair laughed, just as shaken. “You know, I was joking earlier. I didn’t expect to find one up _here_.” He looked back to the door, quite large but clearly smaller than the ogre. “How did it even _get_ here?”

Nereus shrugged and took a closer look at some of the plate the ogre was wearing. “I don’t… is that a shield?”

Alistair frowned and looked down at the corpse. One of the bracers stood out from the rest of the cobbled together armor. Cutting through the thick leather that bound the metal to its arm, Alistair pulled the shield free.

“Not a bad find…” He said, looking over it before discarding his own shield. “Well, at least I got a souvenir. Can’t wait to tell the others about this!”

“I’m sure they’ll be jealous,” Nereus said with a small smile as he looked around.

Finally, he spotted a fireplace piled up with wood. “Ah, that must be our target.”

Alistair paled. “The beacon. Maker, I hope we’re not too late…”

“Better late than never… What was the signal?” Nereus said, approaching the beacon with his staff aimed and ready.

“I don’t…” Alistair trailed off when a resounding boom shook the tower. “Let’s go with _that_ , shall we?”

Nereus nodded and focused on the kindling. Flames erupted from the stacked wood, blazing up the chimney chute and blasting the room with light. Loghain’s men must have added something special to the wood to get _that_ kind of a reaction.

Another blast shook the tower, but this time it came from above. Nereus looked up to see the fire from the beacon flare over the arches at the top of the tower, circling the top like a crown of flames.

It had worked.

“So…” Nereus sighed, watching the fire raging above them. “Now what?”

Alistair was applying a poultice to one of his wounds. “Loghain’s men are dead, so I guess we have no one to wait with. Let’s head back down and see about joining the battle.”

Nereus frowned. “I’ll take care of that. I can manage that much. If we’re heading out, we’re probably going to find a whole new nest of darkspawn to weed out.”

The other Warden grimaced. “Sure you didn’t use too much mana?”

“That’s what lyrium potions are for.” The mage said, shaking a little blue vial.

“Well, then by all means…” He trailed off with a grunt of pain.

There was an arrow in his shoulder. There hadn’t been one before.

Nereus dropped the vial as pain stabbed through him. He’d never been shot before. He turned to see the small horde of darkspawn that had snuck into the room while they’d been regrouping. They were _laughing_. It was the nastiest laugh he’d ever heard and he’d _definitely_ heard some bad ones.

Another arrow, this time in his gut. He dropped to his knees, too shocked to attack in return. He’d never been in so much pain before. He turned to call out to Alistair, only to see him in the same predicament. That would explain a lot.

Rather than letting himself fall on his face, he threw his weight to his left side, where there _wasn’t_ an arrow sticking out of his shoulder.

 _Maker, it hurts too much._ He thought, trying to cast a barrier around the two of them as he watched the darkspawn approach. _Why haven’t they killed us?_

That was his last thought before darkness consumed him.

* * *

 


	25. Heroes and Cowards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Against all odds, Maiara survives Ostagar.

\--------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 10th

\--------------------------

 

The horde was getting closer. She could feel the hot breath on the back of her neck even now; feel the voices scratching at the edge of her mind, a reminder of what almost was and could still be. She wanted to scream, to run, but there was nowhere to run. They were all around her, waiting in the darkness, never ending, unfeeling, undefeatable. They would tear the world to pieces and laugh as blood soaked the land, poisoning it for all life and-

* * *

 

Maiara jerked awake, stumbling over herself as she struggled to gain her footing. Cold mud slipped under her boots instead of her bare feet, causing her to slide until she found her balance.

She was panting, breathing heavily like she’d been running for her life, only she’d just woken up. Silence greeted her, causing the sound of her breathing to appear harsher than it was. Calming herself, she finally had the decent mind to _think_.

Looking around, she saw she was in the forest. Her sword was in the mud where she’d been sleeping. Not sleeping; unconscious. How she’d gotten there…

Ostagar had been a disaster.

* * *

 

\-------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 9th

\-------------------------

 

Duncan had fitted her with Grey Warden armor. It fit her, but it was foreign. It wasn’t the carefully crafted leather from her clan with pieces that fit _just right._ The boots were a part of the uniform, apparently. It was claustrophobic, she decided, but wore them anyway. Maybe when it was over she could have something made custom, something that would feel more familiar and easy to move and breathe in. Until then, she’d get in line with the rest of the Wardens.

When they were down on the field with the fortress at their backs, she wondered who’d decided the valley below Ostagar was a good place to fight. It was so _open_. It looked like a funnel. She felt trapped.

When the darkspawn came, they showed no sign of fear. Why should they? They did not have lives of their own. No homes and loved ones to defend. All they knew was slaughter.

They came at them relentlessly, pushed back by moments and gaining by the minute. It seemed hopeless.

She’d remained with Duncan, fighting near the king and protecting him from the worst of the assaults. Maiara had been surprised when she’d seen the king fight. He was braver and more skilled than she’d expected. He showed concern for the men around him, never hesitating to rush to their aid at the expense of his own safety. Of course this made things more trying for Duncan, who seemed the most intent on remaining at the king’s side. He’d given her no such orders, however.

The battle drew her away from the safety of others more than once before she found her way back. It was tiring work, splitting darkspawn in half, but it was rewarding. She felt so much stronger after the Joining. The whispers and buzzing in her mind no longer tortured her the way they had when she’d been ill. Instead they guided her, almost as if they were giving her insight into the attacks coming her way.

Things were going along so well as she fell into the rhythm of battle that she almost never saw it coming.

A massive beast rushed through the lines, running down darkspawn and human alike in its path. Maiara barely dodged its charge, only to see it go straight for the gold flickering in and out of the sheets of rain.

Duncan saw it, too. He was too far, she knew, even as he rushed to his king’s aid.

She saw the blade sink into her commander’s side while he was distracted and she screamed, watching as he fell, ignored by the creature that had doomed him to die. The roar of the behemoth darkspawn shook her to the core and she watched in frozen horror as it crushed the king, turning his beautiful golden form crimson as it tossed him aside.

The sight of it drew Duncan to his feet before she could reach him.

“Duncan!” She shouted, wading through so many bodies, cutting down any of the monsters she could reach. “Wait!”

He couldn’t hear her.

With no regard to his wounds, he charged at the monster, surprising it as he leapt, digging into its thick flesh with sword and dagger. It roared in pain and shock, never taking a moment to grab him as it had done to the king. It stumbled with the added weight and the fatal wounds being dealt, falling and crushing several smaller darkspawn in its wake. Duncan continued to stab the creature, twisting his blades until he was sure it was dead.

His vengeance exacted, the older Warden looked around in a daze as his wounds overwhelmed him. Maiara reached him, at last, pulling him away from the felled mammoth and helping him away from the thick of the battle. They took cover in a shallow grove of trees and she knew they would not remain unseen for long.

The din of battle was lightened somewhat by their distance and she observed the wounds he’d been dealt. She was no healer, but they looked bad.

“Fool…” She said quietly, looking through her pack for a poultice.

Duncan chuckled wetly. “He… was my king.”

“He was dead when it reached him. You lost your focus.” She ignored the hands that pushed her away, applying the poultice to the deepest wound and pressing it into place. “You…”

“The beacon…” He was trying to see through the trees. “I saw it, didn’t I?”

Maiara turned slowly, her eyes scanning the cliffs. Yes… she could see it. It looked like it had been blazing for some time.

“Where is the general? And his men?” She asked, watching as their forces were butchered. They’d have to move soon. The darkspawn wouldn’t ignore them for much longer.

“They’ll be here. They… they wouldn’t…” He coughed, clutching his side as blood coated his lips and beard.

She saw no sign of new forces on the field. Their own were being whittled down to the marrow and she could see no more Wardens standing. The discontent between the general and the king… she could believe humans capable of such selfish stupidity, but to put the world at risk?

“They’re not coming.” She knew it with a certainty. Already she could feel the darkspawn encroaching on their space. “We must go. The battle is lost.”

Duncan shook his head, pushing her away with the last of his strength. “No. Only you… you must join the others. Use the treaties.”

She gritted her teeth and brought her sword up to behead the short darkspawn that crashed through the trees at their feet. It fell, its head smacking against one of the trees and rolling across the muddy ground.

Duncan watched with a smile, the blood already running pink with rainwater. “I knew I chose wisely.”

“You didn’t have a choice,” she said blankly, looking down at the corpse. “I was dead without you.”

“Perhaps.” He admitted tiredly, pushing himself up against a tree. “I have no regrets. About any of you.”

They stared at each other silently for a moment before he nodded towards the forest.

“Go. Before… it’s too late.” He was fumbling through one of the pockets on his belt. He brought out a little white runestone. “Give this… to Alistair for me. Tell him I’m sorry.”

* * *

 

\--------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 10th

\--------------------------

 

She’d taken the stone and run. The darkspawn had followed, driving her further from familiar surroundings. She could only kill so many before they had the advantage. At some point she’d run out of space, tumbling down into a ravine. She’d blacked out.

Waking up had revealed a lot of nasty cuts and bruises. She was sure that _something_ was broken inside. Luckily her limbs remained intact, allowing her to walk and lift her blade. She had to search around for her pack and was relieved to find it untouched by anything more than the weather. There were a few darkspawn corpses nearby, evidence that the fall could have been deadly. It seemed she was cursed with luck.

Maiara considered climbing back up from the ravine to get a better view of her surroundings and decided against it. If she’d remained safe while unconscious, it was probably a sign.

Instead, she looked to the sky. It was morning and hopefully that meant only night had passed since she’d fallen. She wasn’t sure where she’d find the rest of her party, but she supposed north was as good a start as any.

* * *

 

 

 

It felt like she’d been walking forever.

Evidence of the attack on Ostagar continued to haunt her, every step of the way. Bodies of soldiers and darkspawn both littered the wilderness that she wandered. Crows and vultures both had taken up post over the bodies of both sides, their appetites knowing no boundaries. She shuddered to think of what might happen to a corrupted animal. The creature in the ruins must have been something like that. Imagining one with wings… not a pretty sight.

Still, she carried on, ignoring the wounds that had blossomed on her body during and after the battle. Surely she’d stumble across a road soon… could she have strayed that far from the stone highway that they’d traveled upon?

A scratching at the back of her mind drew her attention from the mystery at hand. She turned to see several darkspawn come trotting out of the trees behind her. They’d come too close before she’d noticed them.

Holding her sword as steadily as she could, she waited for them to rush her. She didn’t have the energy to waste on bringing the fight to them.

Before the first monster could take another step, it was hurled backwards from an unseen force. The remaining three turned in the direction of the attack, only for another of them to rise into the air before crashing down to the ground, splattering dark blood everywhere.

Maiara lowered her sword warily just as a man came tearing out of the trees, massive sword swinging and easily slicing through the two surviving darkspawn.

It was over. She’d been ready to take all of them on only for some mysterious savior – or saviors, if she judged correctly – to intervene.

The dark haired man that took out the last darkspawn was wiping his sword with a bloody cloth that he quickly discarded. He seemed unconcerned by her still holding her sword defensively.

“It’s clear.” He said loudly to his unseen companion.

A woman appeared from the trees, carrying a spear.

 _No…_ Maiara realized. _A staff._

She was a mage.

“A Grey Warden?” The woman said inquisitively. “I thought they all died.”

Maiara lowered her blade entirely. They weren’t darkspawn and that was enough for her. “Not all.”

“Well, what a relief. I suppose we’re not doomed after all.” The woman said cheerfully, approaching her casually with an examining look. “Although you _do_ look a bit worse for wear.”

“I imagine she’s been through the Void and back like the rest of us,” the man said, joining his companion. “Are you alright? I mean, aside from the obvious. Your wounds look… worrisome.”

She smiled despite the pain. All it took was a uniform and suddenly the first thing they saw was a Warden and not a Dalish. She didn’t know if that was a blessing or a curse.

“I can’t say I’m not. I’m alive.” She winced as she tried to return her sword to the strap that kept it on her back. “I may need some aid in the future, however.”

“I can help with that.” The woman said, raising her bladed staff slightly. “Oh, is that threatening? I’m sorry. I mean, I can heal you. Not a lot, but enough.”

“Sister…” the man sighed.

“What?” The mage said lightly. “She’s a Grey Warden and she needs help. I think that’s more important. Besides, we _did_ recue her.” She smiled at Maiara. “You’re not going to tell the templars an _apostate_ saved you from darkspawn, are you?”

Maiara returned the smile easily. “Do I strike you as a devout Andrastian?”

“Duh, she’s _Dalish_!” The woman exclaimed happily as healing magic hummed out from her staff. “See, Carver? Nothing to worry about.”

The man, Carver, sighed again. “Point taken. Continue.”

Maiara silently basked in the bliss of healing magic. She could feel her broken ribs being repaired while the deepest lacerations shrank to the shallowest of cuts. The feeling was odd, but not unwelcome. Merrill and the Keeper had healed her often enough after hunts gone wrong, as well as during a darkspawn encounter in the forest ruins. The bruises would remain for now, but that was fine. At least she felt like she could breathe normally again.

“Ah… ma serannas.” She said, rubbing at the rib that had been plaguing her lung. “I am Maiara, by the way.”

“Artemis,” the woman said blithely, leaning on her staff. “Friends call me Hawke.”

* * *

 


	26. End of the Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of Warden adventures after the disaster of Ostagar.

\-------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 9th

\-------------------------

The beacon was lit. The flare of the signal fire pierced the darkness of the rainy night like a small sun. At the shining light – surely a sign from the Maker himself – a cheer went up from the soldiers under the command of the king and Wardens. So many had fallen to the darkspawn already. Knowing that Loghain’s forces would soon be there to aid them brought forth great strength and courage into their hearts.

But the charge never came. They were abandoned on the battlefield to die at the hands of the monsters.

Adora and Leif looked on from a crumbling watchtower as Loghain signaled the retreat. He had not even waited a full minute after the beacon had been lit before he turned his back on his king.

The two Wardens watched in horror as the soldiers in the valley below fought fiercely in hopes of receiving aid that would never come. The tide had turned in their favor in the face of their valor but it was slowly turning back. From so far away it was difficult to tell the difference between the darkspawn and the forces of men, but the spread of the fires in the forest told them all they needed to know.

They were losing. The fire crept closer, a sign of the horde that brought it. The heavy rain was unable to beat back the hungry flames, just as their forces were unable to halt the spread of the monstrous darkspawn.

There were others watching the battle that had quickly become a killing ground. The wounded, the craftsmen, the Tranquil mages, nurses, Chantry-folk, and camp followers. All of them had their sights trained on the valley below and they watched with fear in their hearts as the darkspawn cut their way through what had once been a powerful army. They watched and they could see that they were doomed.

They panicked, running towards the bridge that spanned the chasm towards the Imperial Highway. Much of the bridge had been reduced to rubble during the first waves of attack and it was clear that more than a few people went over the edge in the chaos. People always found a way to make a bad situation worse.

 

* * *

 

 

Adora watched helplessly as the camp broke under the fear. The betrayal burned in her chest when she realized what it meant for Teyrn Loghain to leave them behind. He’d committed regicide, at the very least.

 _All of those soldiers that were relying on him… and the Wardens._ She felt cold, even though she was sheltered from the rain. _Maker… Maiara and Duncan… how could this happen?_

Duncan had been right to worry. He’d trusted Loghain, but he’d still been cautious enough to make sure the Wardens weren’t annihilated outright. Now it was up to them. Somehow.

“We have to run.” Leif said brusquely, demanding her attention and dragging her back to the here and now.

She looked down at him and saw the anger in his green eyes. “Alistair and Nereus are in the tower. They lit the beacon, they could still-”

“We have our orders. Duncan trusted us to get out alive if shit went wrong.” He was looking down at the valley now. “Well it did. Now we’ve gotta get out before it’s too late.”

Lady whimpered and nudged her leg with her nose. She agreed with Leif.

Things were already bad enough with the confusion and panic running rampant through the fortress. They couldn’t possibly hope to make it over the chasm with everyone else running that way. They were on the outskirts of chaos and the gravity well was drawing them in. They would not be safe if they didn’t move.

She knew he was right. Nodding stiffly, she drew the sword she’d brought with her from Highever. She hadn’t touched it since that night. After Duncan had recruited her, she’d been lucky to avoid combat until the Brecilian Forest. By then she’d purchased a bow from a Dalish craftsman. Holding the familiar blade in hand brought back too many memories of that dark night… but she had no choice. The darkspawn would be upon them soon enough. They would be on the run, unable to take cover and attack from afar.

Leif turned from the overlook and led them through the ruins of Ostagar. They ducked between columns, narrow crumbling halls, and through overgrown rooms. Eventually they ended up in the section of the fortress that had housed the war table earlier that evening. The torches were out, left unattended in the rain for too long. The open area was thankfully abandoned when everyone had started running for the bridge.

Adora looked around hesitantly as they quickly made their way through without anyone taking note of them. Lady was as silent as a wraith, shadowing her footsteps and guarding their retreat.

“Are you sure…?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” He said shortly.

“Doesn’t this go to the Wilds?” She whispered, suddenly scared of the silence they found themselves in. The ruins were behind them now. It was dark and she could hardly see anything. She supposed Leif must have a better idea of how to navigate since he was a dwarf. He probably had excellent lowlight vision.

“Yup,” he grunted, leading them around a twisting group of trees. The ground was slippery with rain and mud and slowly sloping downward. “It’s kinda the only way out from this end. We’re not goin’ in, not really. Just… skirtin’ around a bit.”

Adora pursed her lips and sheathed her sword. Lady would let them know if anything was sneaking up on them. If she was going to slip and fall, she wasn’t going to stab herself on the way down.

 

* * *

 

\--------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 10th

\--------------------------

 

It felt like they’d been walking all night.

Judging from the light cautiously peeking out from the gray clouds that was likely the case.

Adora yawned and stretched her shoulders as she walked. Walking was the only thing she didn’t have to think about any more; it was as easy as breathing.

They were well out of the Wilds now. They’d scurried through the shadows on the edge of the swamp, flinching at every noise and running like the archdemon itself was on their tails.

There were skirmishes in the dark, of course. Darkspawn stragglers that had strayed from the horde. Lady was always quick to alert them and Leif was the first to see them once warned. They were lucky that there were always so few, otherwise a warning wouldn’t have been enough to save them.

She sneezed and stumbled.

“You okay?” Leif asked, stopping to let her catch up.

Adora nodded. “It’s cold.”

“Yeah.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, flicking water out of it.

Lady sat back, panting and obviously grateful for the chance to rest.

Adora was tired, wet, and cold. Sitting in the mud couldn’t make things much worse.

Dropping down to sit beside her hound, she pulled her pack around to look through the contents. The rain had soaked through some of the contents, but the box containing the treaties was well treated to withstand nature.

“Well… at least something made it out dry.” She groaned.

Leif didn’t join them in the mud. He was staring off in the distance.

“Leif?” She asked hesitantly, wondering what his plan was.

The dwarf exhaled. “I have no idea where we’re going.”

She smiled. “I was wondering.” She dug around through her pack and pulled out some cheese. It was wet. She bit into it, uncaring. “These are the Hinterlands. If we keep going north, we should eventually run into some farms. From there, we can see ourselves to Redcliffe.”

He turned to look down at her. “What’s Redcliffe?”

“It’s a village. Arl Eamon resides there. I didn’t see any of his men at Ostagar and I remember Duncan…” she sighed, holding the rest of the cheese out to Lady. “Duncan said something about the arl joining forces with the king later. I can only assume that means he remains in Redcliffe.”

“So this arl, he’s a noble?” Leif asked curiously.

Adora nodded and smiled. “Yes. He’s the king’s uncle… or, he _was_.” She looked down, staring at her dirt crusted nails. “Maker… how did this happen? Why would Loghain _do_ such a thing?”

“I dunno. He seemed… honorable when I spoke with him. I actually…” He laughed coldly. “He sure fooled me. Not that it’s hard.”

“You spoke with the teyrn?” Adora asked, surprised. “When?”

“Yesterday, after you ran off.” He shook his head. “Yesterday… it seems like forever. In Dust Town I couldn’t tell the days and nights apart. It was just… just nothing. Here, it all ends so quickly. I don’t know how one day can seem so long all of a sudden.”

It was easy for her to forget that he was out of his element. Sure, he was a dwarf, but she’d met plenty of surface dwarves over the years. They came and went, selling their wares and services. They always seemed perfectly at home.

Leif didn’t come across as skittish or foreign. He seemed perfectly at ease, if maybe a little curious. Sure, he didn’t know much about nobility or the workings of Ferelden in general, but she supposed the same could be said about most of the uneducated masses. He seemed adept at picking up on things.

“I never knew the teyrn, personally. My father always spoke so well of him…” She swallowed her feelings down and pressed on. “His daughter is the queen… King Cailan was his best friend’s son and he was supposed to look out for him.”

“For being a noble you don’t seem to know much about your own kind.” Leif said bluntly. “In Orzammar, the nobles aren’t afraid to fuck with anyone. They’ll betray who they want, when they want. And they usually use the carta. We got all the gossip on who wanted who dead or shamed or scared shitless.”

“The carta?” She asked. “You mean those smugglers?”

Leif grinned tightly. “Smugglers, thugs, killers for hire, and more.”

Adora shook her head. “ _You_? You’re one of the kindest people I’ve met!”

“Thanks, that means a lot.” He seemed sincere. “I didn’t… I didn’t kill anyone in the carta. That wasn’t me. I did some smuggling, fixed a few things, threatened people, lied, and stole… but I never killed anyone. Not until they turned on me. Guess I wasn’t a part of the gang after I killed their leader.”

It was a lot to take in. It was strange, but she’d never thought to ask him or Nereus about what had led Duncan to them. She’d been so focused on her own grief that it had never crossed her mind.

“I… see. I take it Duncan was involved sometime after?” She didn’t want to sound like she was judging him. She’d meant it when she’d expressed her disbelief. Leif didn’t strike her as a thug or criminal. He was crass, but not threatening in the least. He obviously knew his way around the battlefield, but she’d never wondered where he might have picked up his skills…

 _Maker, am I really so self-centered?_ She felt like such a fool for never taking the time to get to know him or Nereus beyond the friendship they’d offered. When it came to Maiara, she’d seen her problems first hand. She’d spoken with her and bonded with her in a way she hadn’t thought to do with Leif and Nereus. They’d saved her life more than once back in Highever. She felt so… ungrateful.

“Yeah,” Leif said softly. “He took a chance on me. I gotta make sure it was worth it.” He crouched down between her and Lady. “I uh… I know you didn’t want this. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to… I dunno. But we’re Grey Wardens now. And I need your help.”

“I…” She sighed and looked away. “I couldn’t go anywhere else if I wanted to. I know somehow that this is it. I can’t go back. My family… they’re all gone. Howe betrayed us. Now Loghain has betrayed the king. This can’t be a coincidence.”

“So…?”

“So,” she said, looking back at him and smiling. “You’re stuck with me. I’ll probably cry and whine a lot. But I’ll be here.”

Leif smiled. “I can take it.”

Lady barked cheerfully, bouncing up out of the mud.

Adora laughed and followed suit. “She’s right. I think it’s time we keep moving.”

He nodded and stood. “Right, so… which ways north?”

* * *

 

 

Just before nightfall, the Imperial Highway became visible. They were still at least an hour away from the massive stone structure, but it was a happy sight none the less. It meant they’d have an easier time of getting out of the Hinterlands.

The large southern expanse of Ferelden wasn’t exactly friendly to travelers. Aside from being on the edge of the Wilds, the Hinterlands contained a wide variety of wildlife that would do its absolute best to kill anyone in range. Mostly things like bears, wolves, venomous snakes, and the like. There were the occasional non-hostile beasts – nugs, druffalo, foxes – but they’d made themselves quite scarce.

Adora watched idly as a hare ran across their path. Lady darted after it before she could say a word and she sighed. She was hungry. The pitiable amount of food she’d had in her pack was already gone. She’d shared with Lady and Leif throughout the day to keep their energy up. Now it was getting dark and they were still too far from civilization to hope for a warm meal.

 _Unless we hunt._ She hadn’t gone hunting in years. Her parents and brother had always encouraged her to go, but she’d declined in favor of more ladylike pursuits. Oh, how she regretted it _now_.

The girl shivered and rubbed at her eyes. It was best not to think of the past, she knew. But who was she without her memories? She couldn’t help but think of them every day in the smallest of ways.

She spared a glance down at Leif, who was watching the brush where Lady had run off and she wondered who he’d left behind when he’d joined Duncan. Before she could ask, the bushes rustled and Lady returned with the limp body of the hare in her massive jaws.

Adora smiled and patted the hound’s large head. “Good girl! Looks like you caught yourself some dinner!”

Lady made a chuffing sound around her prize before dropping it at Adora’s feet. She looked up expectantly and Adora felt warmth swell throughout her heart. Instead of taking the offering, she knelt down to embrace her dog, stroking her short fur as she tried to calm the threat of tears.

“I’m so lucky to have you with me.” She said softly, giving the hound another round of pets before standing again. She looked at Leif. “I think we should camp for now. We can hit the highway in the morning.”

The dwarf nodded curtly, looking down at Lady with a small smile. “Good idea. Maybe your friend can fetch dinner for all of us while we’re here.”

Adora laughed and scooped up the hare’s body. “An ideal plan! Lady,” she said, turning to the cheerily panting hound. “Can you find more food?”

The dog barked affirmatively and pranced in place.

The redhead nodded in approval. “Alright, well be careful. I want you back here in one piece, you hear?”

Barking happily, the mabari nudged her with her broad head before zipping back into the brush.

“I’ll see about collecting some firewood while she’s at it,” Leif said, dropping his backpack to the ground. “I dunno about you, but I’m not into raw meat.”

Adora wrinkled her nose down at the small animal in her hand. “I’m inclined to agree.” She carefully let her pack slide to the ground as well. “I suppose I will remain and… _skin_ this.”

 _Maker, how long has it been?_ She wondered, sitting down with a sigh. There was a small knife in her boot that she’d used to prepare her food before. She pulled it out and looked down at the dead animal. Since joining with Duncan and the others, she hadn’t had to take care of her meals beyond slicing whatever was passed her way. In fact, she hadn’t had to prepare her meals for years before that.

As she skinned the rabbit, pulling the flesh from its tender muscles, she couldn’t help but reminisce about hunting with Fergus and her father. They’d gone out all the time when she was younger and they’d included her in every part, never excluding her. Why she’d stopped going, she couldn’t seem to recall…

A rustling in the bushes behind her caused her to jump. She set the skinless hare on her pack and turned, drawing her sword. She held her breath until Lady slowly walked forward out of the shadows, this time with a fluffy fennec in her jaws.

“Maker’s breath,” she sighed, sheathing her blade as Lady proudly padded up to her. “You scared me, you silly girl.”

Lady dropped the fennec and licked Adora’s hand apologetically.

She couldn’t help but laugh at the mabari’s concern. “Thank you. You did a good job! I’ll have to pick up some Mabari Crunch in the next town!”

The hound barked excitedly and bounced about for a moment. She was so sweet; it was easy to imagine her as a normal dog sometimes. Then she’d do something distinctly intelligent and Adora was quickly reminded that she was more than just a dog; she was a mabari.

Adora returned to her place on the ground and scooped up the fennec. The larger creature would be enough for her to split with Leif. Lady could keep her hare from earlier. The hound was seated next to her, but she quickly stood and looked pointedly at the bushed across from them. She didn’t bark or growl a warning, so Adora wasn’t worried.

“Leif?” She called, still focusing on the task of skinning the fennec. If she recalled correctly, the furs were valuable. If that changed during a Blight, she wasn’t sure. “Lady brought us a fennec. I figure that should be… oh.”

Instead of Leif joining them, it was a dog. It was the dirtiest dog she’d seen in ages, so it was difficult to tell what was under all of the muck, but she _thought_ it had the build of a mabari. It was carrying a smooth, pink animal by the neck.

“Um, hello.” Adora greeted the newcomer, looking to Lady only to see the dog waiting patiently. She didn’t mark the other hound as a threat, so that was good enough. “You’re welcome to join us. My companion will be returning shortly with wood for a fire, so it shouldn’t be cold tonight.”

She certainly _hoped_ the other dog was a mabari under all that grime. It would be embarrassing if she were caught talking to a normal dog.

Luck was on her side as the dog carefully approached her. Slowly, to show he was no threat, the dog gently laid the dead creature at her feet and looked up at her with big brown eyes. He looked like he’d been through the Void and back. He was filthy, covered in mud, weeds, and blood. There were definitely a few wounds, but none that looked life threatening as far as she could tell. He smelled _awful_.

“Did you come from Ostagar, boy?” She asked gently, gauging the hound’s reaction.

He whined softly and lay down in front of her. Her heart broke at the sight. If only they were near a stream or some other source of water…

“It’s alright,” she said reassuringly. “We came from there, too.”

Before she could say anything more, noise from the trees grabbed her attention. Both dogs jerked to attention, looking into the shadows attentively. Moments later, Leif stepped into the dying light, an armful of wood weighing down his stout frame.

“Y’know how much dry wood there is after a rain?” He grumbled, stomping over to her and the dogs. “Not that much.” He dropped the wood with a staccato clatter and frowned. “What’s that?”

Adora set the skinned fennec next to the hare and moved to set the fire pit up. “A mabari. He came from Ostagar. Poor thing. He, ah, I believe he brought dinner.”

Leif looked down at the collection of small animal corpses. “Huh, nug. Well, I feel at home.” He knelt down and squinted at the dog, who was now happily wagging his stub of a tail. “Hey… I think this is the dog I saved at Ostagar.”

The dog in question barked enthusiastically and leapt to his feet, bouncing around joyfully.

The dwarf laughed in response to the dog. “No shit! Wow! Do you… do you think he came all the way out here to find _me_?”

Adora was watching him with the hound with a small smile as she dug at the soft earth, then dragged stones over to the hole. “I think you know the answer.”

He was staring at the dog with wonder in his dark green eyes. “Wow… that’s incredible!”

“I think he’s chosen you,” she said, watching the dog’s elated reaction to his words. “Mabari are like that.”

Leif looked over at her, shocked. “Yeah? I… I’ve never had a, uh, a pet.”

That was a little tidbit of background for her to store away. She had the wood nestled into the ground. It wasn’t damp, thank goodness. Striking flint took longer than she remembered…

“I don’t know how to care for an animal,” he admitted quietly, reaching a hand out to pet the dog. “Do I… does he have a name?”

A spark! She grinned, watching as the tinder finally took to flame.

“You’re lucky you have Lady and me to help you, then.” She said at last, rocking back on her heels to watch the fire bloom. “I’m sure he _did_ have a name, once. You’ll have to give him a new one. Mabari are the smartest breed in the world, but even they cannot speak and write.”

Leif nodded slowly. “Yeah, okay. Hm… a name.” He frowned, furrowing his brow as he delved deep into thought. “I’ve never named something….”

“I’m sure something will come to you,” Adora said, searching the edge of the tree line for some sharp sticks and branches. The meat would take a while to cool, but it needed to be impaled on something first. All of their camping equipment had been left at Ostagar. “You’re lucky he found you all the way out here. I doubt it was easy.”

“Lucky, huh?” He mumbled under his breath, looking down at the hound. “I am, aren’t I? And so are you. I’m glad I helped you.”

The dog licked the hand that had pet his filthy head. Leif laughed and scratched the hound’s ears.

“Okay, that’s good enough for me. Lucky, you need a bath.”

 

* * *

 

Leif, Adora, and Lady

Lucky, the newcomer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the end of that one day/night in Ostagar. I will try not to drag shit out like that in the future.


	27. Salt for Your Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Ostagar continues to unfold.

\--------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 10th

\--------------------------

 

For once, he did not dream.

Nereus drifted from one moment to another. He was aware that he’d been shot – several times, if he wasn’t in too much shock to tell. He’d seen the darkspawn crowding into the room. He knew what that meant.

The next moment was very much like a dream. He felt the wind and rain on his face, like he was standing on the edge of a seaside cliff. Or like he was flying.

That _had_ to be a dream, he was sure of it.

The last moment upon waking was the sensation of being fairly comfortable in a warm bed. Considering his former circumstances, he judged that to be a highly unlikely outcome after his encounter with the darkspawn in the tower…

He lay here, dreading the time to open his eyes. The blankets covering him were warm and just a little scratchy. Speaking of scratchy, he felt the itch of healing wounds.

“Ah, you’re awake. Mother shall be pleased.” A sharp, melodic voice drew him from his short observations.

She must have sensed the changed from sleep to waking. Nereus opened his eyes, seeing no point in pretending. He recognized the voice of the witch, but he was surprised to see her watching him with her strange yellow eyes. At first, all he could focus on were her eyes.

The room he was in was dim, lit only by the embers of a fire and a few stray candles that would surely be more of a fire hazard in a drier climate. Wan, white light drifted into the room from barely shuttered windows. As his eyes adjusted, he could make out more details of cluttered bookshelves, furs draped over handmade furniture, jars of herbs, and assorted relics and bones.

It was exactly as he’d imagined a swamp witch’s cottage to look.

“I seem to have misplaced myself,” Nereus said slowly, pushing himself into a sitting position. _Naked? No, still wearing pants._ That didn’t make him feel any less exposed. “I was supposed to be dead in a tower at Ostagar. How did I luck out on these accommodations?”

Morrigan didn’t appear to be amused by his candor. “A curious situation, you seem to have found yourself in.” She slowly crossed the room to his bedside, looking him over like a cat viewing her prey. “How does your memory fare? Do you remember Mother’s rescue?”

His brow furrowed as he tried to think back to the moments between death and awakening. He remembered… the rain and the wind on his face. That was it. But he’d been _inside_ the tower. Perhaps the darkspawn had trashed the place worse than he’d thought.

“I’m not quite clear on the particulars,” he admitted after a moment’s thought. “But I recall being outside, somehow. I’d like to know how she managed it… and why.”

Morrigan gauged his reaction before supplying any answers. “You’d do better to ask her yourself. Mother managed to save you and your friend, though ‘twas a close call. What is important is that you both live.”

“My friend… Oh! You mean Alistair.” That was good, he supposed. They’d have to report back to Duncan and the others once they were finished in the Wilds.

 _I don’t think that’s an option_.

He paused, considering the thought as it passed. _Why_ had she saved them? If the tower had been lost, then surely the army…

 _Were we too late?_ Dread settled into his core at the thought. Had he wasted too much time scouring the tower like a scavenger?

He realized Morrigan was speaking again.

“-signal quit the field. The darkspawn won your battle.” She spoke casually, as if she were informing him of the weather.

Nereus sat very still, focusing on her words as he tried to reconcile them with what he knew. Loghain and the king had been at odds during the war table session. The general had been reluctant to send aid to the tower and when the backup plan had pulled through…

“He just _left_?” He asked, aghast. “You saw? He waited until _after_ the signal?”

The witch rolled her eyes. “I _am_ sure. ‘twas clearly a betrayal.” She paused before adding, “Those he abandoned were massacred. Your friend… he is not taking it well.”

She sounded like she was trying _not_ to be sympathetic.

“Maker’s… _fuck_ ,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. It was tangled and unkempt, having slipped out of the braid he usually kept it in. “The Wardens…. The _king_ …”

“All dead.” Morrigan supplied helpfully. “Your friend has veered between denial and grief since Mother told him.”

“His name is Alistair,” Nereus grumbled, slightly annoyed by how committed she was in keeping her distance from the problem. “And I can’t say I blame him.”

 _Elowen…_ The mages had been with the king’s army. _Shit. Maiara._ He hadn’t been on her good side, exactly, but he’d fought beside her, damnit. Now she was dead. Duncan, too. _Fuck._

If Morrigan was humbled by his words, he certainly couldn’t tell. She seemed… awkward, he decided. Not entirely malicious in her doomsday proclamations. Maybe.

“He is outside by the fire.” She stepped away from the bed, quickly moving to a low table near the hearth. “Mother asked to see you when you awoke.”

“Well, let’s not keep her waiting.” Nereus sighed.

The old woman had protected the treaties and warned them that the Blight was worse than they knew. Apparently she knew her stuff.

 _The Grey Wardens have been defeated_. It was the most prominent thought going through his mind. _Maker, I hope Adora and Leif got out_.

Duncan had been right to worry, it seemed. And _wrong_ to believe Loghain would win their battle.

Morrigan was steadfastly ignoring him, chopping some vegetables with a wicked looking knife at the hearthside table. Now that he was fully conscious, he could smell a broth of some kind.

He was starving, he realized. He didn’t know how long he’d been out, but it felt like he hadn’t eaten in days. His stomach growled audibly, but his caretaker seemed to pay him no mind as she committed herself to her task.

Slipping out of the bed, he winced slightly at the pain in his shoulder. Touching the spot tentatively, he looked down to see a shiny pink scar. It was still sore, but overall appeared to be healed.

Looking around the bed, he saw his new Grey Warden uniform neatly piled atop a box. He could see where the blood hadn’t been fully washed out of some of the dark blue cloth. Still, it was almost charming that they – whether Morrigan or her mother – had even tried.

“Thank you, Morrigan.” Nereus said as he dressed, doing his best to sound sincere. “For helping me.”

There was a distinct pause in the vegetable chopping, he noted.

“I… you are welcome, though Mother did most of the work. I am no healer.” If he wasn’t mistaken, she may have sounded shy.

Smiling to himself as he buckled a belt over the silverite and wool tabard, he wondered how he was going to get through the day. After all, bad things seemed to be happening at an alarming rate in the last few weeks.

“So…” He was bad at making small talk. He always ended up saying something offensive. “How bad were my wounds? I’ve never been shot before, so that was… new.”

She was silent for a moment and he wondered if maybe she was back to ignoring him. He turned to look at her as he buckled more pieces into place.

Morrigan was clearing the table of vegetables. “They were worrisome, I suppose. However, I expect you shall be fine. The darkspawn did nothing Mother could not heal.”

He nodded. “Well, that’s a relief. I can’t say I expected to make it out alive, let alone fine.” He wondered if there was a way to repair the little tear in the brigandine. Or, even better, to line it with something arrows would have a more difficult time piercing. “What about Alistair? I assume I had the worst of it since he’s outside and I’m in here.”

“He is… as you are.” She said slowly. “I suppose it would be unkind to say he is being childish.”

“You’re more observant than you let on.” Nereus said, sitting on the bed again to pull his boots on. “Good for you.”

He almost felt bad about behaving so bitterly towards someone who had saved his life.

 _Correction. Her_ mother _saved our lives._

But there was no reason for her to be so carefree about the loss of life at Ostagar. Or for her to be so rude in regards to Alistair’s grieving. He’d only known the guy for a day, but he knew better than to think he deserved the witch’s scorn. He was a Grey Warden, for fuck’s sake. And he’d lost everyone he knew in that battle, only to be stuck with Nereus, of all people. He knew that wasn’t the best he could have hoped for.

 _Maker knows I’ll be enough of an ass to him once we leave._ He could already imagine the arguments they’d have in the future.

“If you are finished with your line of questioning,” Morrigan said bitingly. “I must prepare dinner.”

“I hope your cooking is better than your bedside manner,” Nereus muttered under his breath as he drew himself up into a stretch.

He didn’t wait for her reply as he walked out the door into the pale light of the Wilds. 

* * *

 

 

Completely unexpected, Alistair had been ecstatic to find him alive. Although Nereus surmised it may be because the other Warden was no longer alone, rather than being an expression of value for his companionship.

“Aw, don’t make that face.” Nereus said, keeping his distance from the distraught Warden. He looked beyond devastated and Nereus didn’t want to risk being pulled into a hug if he was too comforting towards his companion. He seemed the type. “It takes more than a few darkspawn to kill _me_. And… you, apparently.”

Alistair laughed weakly, sounding on the verge of tears. “Lucky us; being sent to hold up the torch while the rest of the Wardens died.” He choked on the last word, clenching his fists at his sides and closing his eyes.

Nereus thought he might cry, but he just stood there for a moment before shaking his head. “Duncan’s dead. The Grey Wardens… even the king. They’re all _dead_.” He took a shuddering breath, obviously doing his best to hold back the tears. “This just doesn’t seem real. If it weren’t for Morrigan’s mother, we’d be dead on top of that tower.”

The old woman snorted. “Do not talk about me as if I were not present, lad.”

Alistair straightened his back under the woman’s glare. “I-I didn’t mean… what do we call you, then? You never told us your name.”

“Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind folk call me ‘Flemeth.’ I suppose it will do.”

Nereus’s eyes widened as he snapped his head to look over the old woman. She looked so… _normal_. Her gray hair was streaked with white, her face lined and tight with age. Her clothing looked overtly baggy on her, though; as if she were trying to look more disheveled and frumpy than she really was. He frowned, focusing on her and trying to see if there was something he was missing.

Her bright yellow eyes flicked up to meet his and he found himself looking away, quickly.

“ _The_ Flemeth? From the legends?” Alistair let out a small gasp of awe. “Daveth was right. You’re the Witch of the Wilds, aren’t you?”

Flemeth shrugged. “And what does that mean? I know a bit of magic and it has served you both well, has it not?”

Nereus fervently nodded his head. “Indeed, it has. And we are _grateful,_ are we not?”

Alistair shot him a weird look. “Yes, of course. Of course we are. Thank you.”

“It’s just a shock, as I’m sure you can imagine.” Nereus said quickly, wondering why he was talking so much. He _should_ just let it lie, but he couldn’t. “For us to be saved by such a mighty figure… if you truly _are_ Flemeth, that is. You’d have to be _very_ old and powerful.”

 _Did I just call a possibly ancient witch_ old _?!_ He had to have cracked his skull on the stone in the tower.

“Must I?” To his relief, she merely seemed amused. “Age and power are relative. It depends on who is asking. Compared to you? Yes; on both counts.”

“Then why didn’t you save Duncan?” Alistair asked dolefully. “He is… _was_ our leader.”

Somehow, Flemeth looked upon him with empathy. “I am sorry for your Duncan, but your grief must come later. In the dark shadows before you take vengeance, as my mother once said. Duty must come now.” Her eyes flicked to Nereus and he couldn’t tell that there had ever been pity in them. “It has always been the duty of the Grey Wardens to unite the lands against the Blight… or has that changed when I wasn’t looking?”

 _Is she trying to_ encourage _us?_ The entire situation felt surreal.

“It hasn’t,” he said defensively. “It’s just… this shouldn’t have happened. We were counting on Loghain to lead us to victory, not to a slaughter!”

“It just doesn’t make any sense!” Alistair chipped in. “Why would he _do_ this?”

“Now _that_ is a good question.” Flemeth said, crossing her arms. Her eyes looked colder, somehow, after hearing Loghain’s name. “Men’s hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he believes the Blight is an army he can outmaneuver. Perhaps he does not see that the evil behind it is the _true_ threat.”

“The archdemon.” Alistair spat.

Nereus suppressed a shiver. “Let’s focus on the immediate issue. The dragon – if that’s what it is – hasn’t shown itself. As for Loghain… what could he hope to gain by betraying the king?”

His companion shrugged. “The throne? He’s the queen’s father… still, I can’t see how he’ll get away with murder.”

Flemeth scoffed openly. “You speak as if he would be the _first_ king to gain his throne that way. Grow up, boy.”

Alistair bristled slightly, but didn’t object. He looked away from her, focusing his intense brown eyes on Nereus instead. “If Arl Eamon knew what he did, he would _never_ stand for it - the _Landsmeet_ would never stand for it! There will be civil war!”

Seeing the other man get so riled up was surprisingly attractive.

 _Focus, Nereus._ He sighed. “Arl Eamon, hm? Do you think he would believe _us_ over the teyrn?”

Alistair nodded confidently. “I do. He _knows_ I wouldn’t set him against Loghain over nothing. He wasn’t at Ostagar, he still has all his men. And he was Cailan’s uncle. I _know_ him. He’s a good man; respected in the Landsmeet.” He was pacing now, causing the armor to shift and clink noisily. He halted his brooding, his head shooting up as he smiled. “Of _course_! We could go to Redcliffe and appeal to him for help!”

Nereus settled his hands on his hips and frowned. He just realized his staff was missing. It had probably been left in the tower. _Damn…_ He’d have to purchase a new one in the future. He realized Alistair was looking at him expectantly. “Oh, yeah. Not a bad idea… although we should try to find Leif and Adora first, if possible. They have the treaties, after all.”

He didn’t expect it, but the other Warden’s eyes lit up with hope. “Of course! The treaties! Grey Wardens can demand aid from dwarves, elves, mages, and other places! They’re obligated to help us during the Blight!”

Flemeth had a smile of her own in place. It made her look decades younger. “I may be old, but dwarves, elves, mages, this Arl Eamon and who knows what else… this sounds like an army to me.”

Alistair looked positively ecstatic. “Maker’s breath… they _had to_ have made it out. We can find them and… We can do this. Right? We can go to Redcliffe and these other places and build an army?”

 _I hope so._ Nereus could only hope that the others had made it out. He didn’t say it aloud, of course. Instead, he smiled and did his best to exude confidence. “You’re damn right we can. We’re Grey Wardens, after all.”

“So you are set, then?” Flemeth asked. “Ready to be Grey Wardens?”

Somehow she had the ability to make simple questions sound cryptic. Nereus grinned. “Born ready. Thank you again, Flemeth. This wouldn’t be possible without you.”

The witch shook her head and smiled. “No, no. Thank _you_. You are the Grey Wardens here, not I.” Her smile spread and she cocked her head at a noise only she could hear. “Now, before you go, there is yet one more thing I can offer you.”

Nereus waited expectantly, but she said nothing more. He opened his mouth to ask; wondering if maybe she’d forgotten what she was saying – he’d known a few elder mages who did that from time to time and Flemeth did come off as a little far gone sometimes – when the door from the hut creaked open.

“The stew is bubbling, Mother dear.” Morrigan announced, sweeping across the distance between them to take up a stance beside her mother. “Shall we have two guests for the eve or none?”

Flemeth smiled at Nereus as if to say _“See?”_ She said, “The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl, and you will be joining them.”

Morrigan had been smiling placidly, clearly expecting her mother to announce the departure of the Wardens. “ _Such_ a shame, I – _what?!_ ”

“You heard me, girl. The last time I looked, you had ears.” Flemeth cackled cheerfully at her daughter’s shock.

Nereus couldn’t help but smile. “Well, isn’t _this_ a treat.” To be honest, he hadn’t expected _that_ would be the help she offered. Still, it could be worse. Having a beautiful woman along couldn’t be a _bad_ thing, could it? “I think that’s an _excellent_ idea! The more the merrier, I say!”

Morrigan clearly disagreed. “Have _I_ no say in this?”

Flemeth smiled serenely at the younger mage. “You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years. _Here_ is your chance.” She turned her gaze back to Nereus and Alistair. “As for you, Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives.”

 _Could’ve been worse. She could have asked for anything._ Taking her daughter to war was probably the simplest thing they could have asked for.

“Works for me.” He said quickly and smiled. “We’d be happy for the additional aid, right Alistair?”

The other Warden looked much more hesitant. “Not to… look a gift horse in the mouth, but won’t this add to our problems? Outside of the Wilds, she’s an apostate.”

Nereus groaned. “Not this _again_.”

Flemeth scowled at the brawny blonde. “If you do not wish help from us _illegal mages_ , young man, perhaps I should have left you on that tower.”

He had the grace to look embarrassed. “Point… taken.”

“Mother…” Morrigan was all but pleading with the old woman. “This is not how I _wanted_ this. I-I am not ready!”

The old witch placed a gentle hand on her daughter’s shoulder. She stared at the dark haired girl with the same curious yellow eyes, leaving no room for doubt in Nereus’s mind as to their relation. While Flemeth may look older than she should, she was clearly Morrigan’s mother.

“You _must_ be ready.” She said tenderly, holding her daughter’s shoulder tightly. “Alone, these two must unite Ferelden against the darkspawn. They _need_ you, Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail and all will perish under the Blight. Even _I._ ”

Morrigan looked back at her mother before nodding dejectedly. “I… understand.”

Seemingly satisfied with her lecture, she patted Morrigan’s shoulder and released her. Turning back to the Wardens, her eyes hardened and she said, “And you, Wardens. Do you understand?” Her focus on them was intense and Nereus felt himself fighting not to shrink under her gaze. “I give you that which I value above _all_ in this world. I do this because you _must_ succeed.”

Nereus solemnly bowed his head. “I swear: I will do my utmost to keep her from harm.” He stood straight and caught Morrigan’s glare. He smiled and added, “Not that I believe she cannot protect herself… she seems quite capable if I’m not mistaken.”

“Ha! Such a flatterer, this mage.” Flemeth laughed, looking from Nereus to Morrigan.

The dark haired witch merely huffed in response. “Allow me to get my things, if you please.”

Morrigan spun on her heel and stomped back into the hut, slamming the rickety door behind her.

Nereus looked back at Flemeth, who only smiled. He felt uneasy, standing in the dank swamp with a witch. He’d always wondered about other mages outside the Circle. His life before the Circle had been the normal life of a peasant with his parents and siblings. His father had taught them to control their magic and supplied them with the basics of healing only.

Flemeth was so much more than an apostate mage, however. She was a mystery wrapped in a package of obscurity. He wondered if he was even seeing what she truly looked like or if he could only see her as she wanted to be seen.

 _As if she’s truly_ the _Flemeth_. He tried to feel skeptical about her vague claim, but he couldn’t help but feel it was more than just that. She’d rescued them, somehow. Not only that, but by some means known _exactly_ where to find them; she’d made it just in time, too.

 _Nor could it be coincidence that we met before last night._ He’d read enough stories – true and historical – to know how it looked. Somehow fate or _something_ had brought them to her time and again.

“You have so many questions.” Flemeth said, sounding more than a little amused.

“I do.” Nereus admitted stoically.

The witch laughed. “Oh, my Morrigan will surely have her hands full.”

He bit his tongue, forcing a stop on the words that were ready to roll off his tongue. The witch’s smile broadened.

Before things could escalate further, the door snapped open again. Morrigan carried a gnarled staff in hand and had a pack slung over her narrow shoulders. Her dark lips were pulled into a pout as she marched over to stand in front of the two Wardens.

“I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens.” She said formally. “I suggest a village north of the Wilds as our first destination. Tis not far and you will find much you need there. Or if you prefer, I shall simply be your silent guide. The choice is yours.”

Her eyes had flicked between him and Alistair while she spoke; the distaste in her voice was more prominent at the end of her short speech.

Nereus smiled charmingly. “Why take the fun out of it? I’m sure you’re a fountain of trivia and local knowledge. Please, speak your mind.”

Flemeth cackled gleefully. “Oh, you will regret saying that.”

Morrigan whirled to glare at her mother. “Dear, _sweet_ Mother, you are _so kind_ to cast me out like this. How _fondly_ I shall remember this moment.”

The old woman’s laughter still trickled into her words. “Well, I always say ‘if you want something done, do it yourself.’ Or hear about it for a decade or two afterwards.”

“I just…” Alistair was frowning and failing at speaking quietly. “Do you _really_ want to take her along because her _mother_ says so?”

Nereus returned the frown. “Oh, get over yourself Alistair. You’re _not_ a templar. Don’t ruin this by acting like one.”

To his surprise, the other man took a step back. He felt good about that.

“A templar?” Morrigan chirped. “My, my, it all comes together. If you _worry_ that I will summon demons and transform into an abomination, I _assure_ you that I will at least wait till _you_ are not looking.”

“I feel better already…” Alistair grumbled.

Nereus retrieved his pack from the ground and slung it over his shoulders. It was heavy with what he’d pilfered from the tower and he could already imagine how sore he’d be at the end of the day. He stretched a moment before clapping his hands together and declaring, “Okay, now that that’s settled, moving on.”

Morrigan turned back to her mother and spoke with decidedly less venom than before. “Farewell, Mother. Do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned down hut.”

“Tis far more likely you will return to see this entire area – along with my hut – _swallowed_ by the Blight.” Flemeth jeered.

Morrigan’s cool look shattered as she stared at her mother. “I… All I meant was-”

“Yes, I know.” The old woman said benignly. “Do try to have fun, dear.”

Morrigan spared her one last look before her yellow eyes hardened and she turned and stomped away. She looked away from the Wardens as she led the way on the path through the swamp, forcing them to follow quickly or be left behind.

Nereus struggled to keep up with her, unused to the grueling pace. He was grateful that he didn’t wear armor like Alistair or the other Wardens. Being a mage had some benefits to the weight of the uniform, at least. The wool was thick and interwoven with silverite and leather. The silverite was light, but fairly strong. The arrows had pierced the wool with leather backing, unfortunately. Hopefully he’d find a place where it could be properly repaired in Lothering.

His foot snagged a root and he stumbled forward, barely catching himself on a lean, twisted tree. Alistair looked back at him with concern.

“Are you alright?” The blonde Warden asked.

He nodded, pushing a burst of healing magic into his throbbing ankle. _Good as new._ “Right behind you.”

He looked back and realized he could no longer see the witch’s hut or the ruins they’d passed through on their way out.  Looking forward again, he raced to catch up with his companions. They made for a strange trio, but he hoped they’d add to their numbers once they reached Lothering. If they didn’t find Leif and Adora… He shook his head.

 _Best not to think about it._ He had to focus on the present. Getting out of the Wilds was just the beginning, after all.

* * *

 

 


	28. Where Will You Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maiara and the Hawke siblings bond on their journey.

\-------------------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 12th

\-------------------------------------

 

It was raining again.

It almost felt as if the storm were moving with them. It came in bursts of cold showers, bright flashes of lightning, and deep booming thunder. For a few hours at a time it would pass, but the sky remained gray and indifferent to the discomfort of those below it.

Maiara was grateful for the Hawke siblings taking her along. Her clan had never spent much time in the Hinterlands and she knew nothing about the terrain. There was the dim recollection she had of their visit into the Wilds, but other than that they never strayed so far south. The temperate Brecilian forest was more to their liking when it came to roaming Ferelden. Sometimes they’d drift along the coastlands, but more often than not they’d find themselves driven back to the woods.

Unfortunately even the section of the Hinterlands they were traveling through was largely unknown to the Hawkes as well.

The three of them were taking shelter in a cave while the storm raged outside. It was midday, but there was no hint of the sun in the dark, brooding clouds as they continued to wash the world away.

Artemis had convinced some damp wood to support a fire while they waited out the storm and tried to figure out where they were. She had drawn a rough map on the cavern floor, scribbling triangular mountains, squiggly rivers, and x’s for landmarks. She and Carver were quietly bickering and redrawing sections of the map according to their memories.

“No, that’s more to the west.” Carver said lowly, erasing another marker and moving it to the left side of the map.

Artemis shook her head. “Carver, we just passed a structure like this earlier. I think we need to move northeast. We must have ended up on the wrong side of the Highway.”

Her brother frowned as he looked down at the map. “That… would make sense.”

Maiara listened to the two of them silently as she prepared their meal for the day. They’d had little luck with big game, but they’d found more than a few smaller critters on the run. They’d been trying to get back to the Imperial Highway and from the sound of things, they’d gone too far. If their journey had led them away from the main path of the Blight, it would explain why they’d had any luck at all.

 _Thank Andruil for Artemis._ The mage was the only one capable of hunting, it seemed. Or, rather, she was the only one capable of ranged attacks. Maiara and Carver were incapable of sneaking up on small animals like rabbits and fennecs. At least Artemis could fry their little hearts with a bolt of lightning.

She found herself staring at the siblings as they redrew the map, this time speaking amiably and without conflict. It seemed they were allied in their thinking once more. She noticed that it was a common dance between the two of them. They would find something to disagree upon and argue back and forth before one of them was inevitably proven right. Then they would speak as good friends, as if the dispute had never taken place.

Carver looked over and caught her eye before quickly looking away.

 _Was he blushing?_ Maiara couldn’t tell with the fire as her only light.

A moment later, Artemis muttered something under her breath before patting her brother’s shoulder and rising from her position on the ground. The tanned mage stretched with her arms over her head as she twisted her body to work out the kinks. Sighing in relief, she dropped down next to Maiara as she tended the fire.

“So,” Artemis smiled. “We _may_ have been going the wrong way.”

Maiara couldn’t help but return the smile. “I heard.” She shrugged. “Better for you to lead than I. I’m sure I would have had us halfway to the Frostbacks by now. My sense of direction is… bad, to say the least.”

“Really?” She sounded genuinely surprised.

The elf nodded. “Yes. Really.”

“Huh. I guess I thought you Dalish would be good with that sort of thing.” She said, poking at the roasting rabbit with a stick. “I mean, you’ve gotta know where you’re going in those landships of yours, right?”

Maiara laughed. “Oh, so you think that’s a Dalish thing?” The mage shrugged sheepishly. “Hm, well maybe it is. Although I’m not exactly in charge of where we go. The halla guide us. We go where they take us.”

“Those white deer?” Carver asked, joining the conversation as he brushed the map away.

The Warden nodded. “Yes. They are our guides. We could not go anywhere without them.”

“They pull your landships, don’t they?” Artemis probed, clearly curious. “I saw some Dalish passing by the West Road, once. Those red sails are so beautiful.”

Perhaps in the past it would have irked her for humans to question her so much. Maybe it would still bug her if the wrong people were asking. The Hawke siblings had saved her, however. It wasn’t as if she believed that she owed them. She genuinely felt that she could trust them. Artemis in particular had an air about her. They would make wonderful allies, she knew.

“We call them aravels.” She explained softly, thinking back to her clan. She hadn’t thought about them since Ostagar. The pain of leaving was still in her heart, but acceptance had settled in beside it. “They’re enchanted. That’s how we move so quickly. That’s why they’re called ‘landships’ by passersby. It looks as if they’re sailing across the land as easily as a ship cuts through water.”

She told them stories about growing up, about how they were constantly on the move and how that was fine. Settling down was strange and they never stayed in one place for longer than necessary. She talked about her childhood and how she’d always get in fights and how that had left her with only a few close friends in the clan; Merrill, Fenarel, and Tamlen. Without going into too much detail, she told them about the ruins she and Tamlen disturbed and how it led to her becoming a Grey Warden.

They’d had a few queries while she’d spun her tale and she’d answered them as well as she could. She was no true storyteller, she knew. She could only tell it as she had experienced it, bias included.

“Then there was Ostagar…” She finished softly, looking up into the too-blue eyes of the Hawke siblings.

Carver grimaced and looked down. Artemis put a hand on his arm and squeezed.

“We volunteered,” Artemis explained, keeping her hold on her brother. “Well, Carver volunteered. I ran off after him when I found out.”

“You should have stayed.” He grumbled, before taking his share of the rabbit.

“If I had, you’d be dead.” Artemis countered with a grin. “And we wouldn’t be having such lovely company, now would we?”

Her brother continued to frown and Maiara smiled sadly. She missed her friends. She missed Tamlen.

A pang of hurt and guilt coiled around her heart at the thought of him. How could she leave him behind? She should have stayed.

“As you know, apostates can’t just join the king’s army willy-nilly. So I had to prove myself as a warrior before they let me come along.” Artemis continued. “Good thing my darling brother took _so_ much time out of his busy schedule to spar with me. I can kill a man with my lance with or without magic.”

Maiara shoved her memories into the background and nodded appreciatively. “That’s impressive. And no one caught on? There was… an unusually strong Chantry presence at Ostagar.”

“They were there to keep an eye on the Circle mages,” the apostate explained nonchalantly. “They never let them out of their camp, so they didn’t have much reason to be looking for me.”

“Most templars are idiots,” Carver added. “There’s a chantry in Lothering, too. Bethany – our sister – goes to worship every week. She’s… also a mage.”

Maiara got the distinct feeling that the topic of mages in the family was a sore spot for Carver.

“I see.” She said, taking the knife and carving her section of rabbit as well. It wasn’t much. They’d eat again later. The rain was already letting up and they needed to keep moving. 

* * *

 

 

Maiara was ravenous. She’d finished her food in what seemed like seconds and felt like her hunger had only grown stronger. She’d have to keep an eye out for edible plants and fruit along the way. Anything for a quick snack would help.

They were passing through a forested area again and headed roughly northeast. Getting lost had likely set them back several days from their destination, so they’d have to move faster to make up for lost time. If the darkspawn horde was moving as well, they might have less time than they knew.

Carver kept them moving at an unbearable pace. The human warrior seemed to have an endless amount of stamina. His sister kept up well enough, but Maiara could see that she was having trouble sometimes. They rested more times than they wanted. The pace was just too exhausting.

Mythal must have smiled upon them, because they stumbled into a grove of fruit bearing trees. They’d filed their packs and pockets with apples. Maiara knew that she couldn’t eat too much at once, but she could at least spread it out along with the meat they procured along the way.

By the time they’d set camp for the night, they’d picked up a few hares and a nug. They roasted the whole lot and had nug and apples for dinner. The hares would be saved for the next few days if they ran out of luck.

During that meal, Maiara learned more about her new companions.

Bethany was Carver’s twin sister, apparently, and she’d remained at home with their mother. Their father had been a mage and Carver was the only one aside from their mother to lack the gift. He was the odd one out in his family and it was made clear with every word. He was more than happy to finally have someone to talk to about something other than magic.

Maiara didn’t mind. She knew next to nothing about magic herself. The only mages she’d known were Merrill, the Keeper, and Nereus. Artemis seemed nice enough, though. Not very mage-like from what little she knew.

“I can’t help but notice,” she said at one point, looking between the two dark haired humans. “Your noses. You have matching scars?”

Carver blushed and Artemis laughed.

“I was waiting for you to ask!” The mage exclaimed jubilantly. “Brother, do you want to tell the tale or shall I?”

“Who knows what embellishments you’ll think to add?” Carver groused as the blush subsided. “We were sparring. Arte made it past my defenses and struck my nose. After she was done laughing, she grinned, picked up a knife, and cut herself across the face.”

Maiara stared at Artemis while Carver spoke and saw that she was smiling placidly the entire time.

Carver looked over at her and rolled his eyes. “She said ‘Now we match, too.’”

* * *

 

 

They’d camped along a small stream and found the water to be clear and clean, completely untouched by the darkness of the Blight. There were even a few silvery slivers of fish and they could hear frogs croaking in the shadows of the reeds.

After their meal, they’d taken the opportunity to clean some of the grime and blood of war from themselves. Still prepared for trouble, Carver recommended they do so in shifts and volunteered to keep watch.

Maiara had shrugged and carefully removed her armor and left it in camp. She would clean it separately and didn’t want to risk getting the cloth brigandine muddy. Carver had turned beet red and turned away without a word. It was a strange reaction and she wondered if perhaps she’d offended him. She’d always heard conflicting tales about human men and she was unsure which ones were true. Perhaps they were more private than rumor made them out to be?

Artemis had laughed and followed her down to the river, only choosing to remove her clothes when they were out of her brother’s sight.

“Ah,” Maiara understood then. Humans were _definitely_ more private than vicious rumor had implied.

The mage crouched down in the shallow stream beside her as she splashed her tanned skin with the cold water. “Maker’s _balls_ this is cold!” She shivered as she washed, but leveled a smile up at Maiara. “Thank you for that. The look on his face was _priceless_.”

Maiara would have blushed if she felt any shame about it. She was more concerned that she may have offended the younger Hawke. “That was not my intent. I… should I apologize?”

Artemis shook her head, flinging cold drops of water around. “Nah. Well, if you want. So, the Dalish really _do_ dance naked under the moon, hm?”

It was only then that she blushed. _Of course humans would have rumors of their own._ “I… no, we do not. It is simply that…” She sighed and knelt in the water as well. “We see no shame in our natural bodies. It is also safer to bathe in the company of others. If we had such qualms about stripping beside our lethallin, we would hardly get anything done.”

Artemis wiggled her eyebrows and smiled. “Suuuuure.” She laughed at the exasperated expression Maiara had on her face. “Okay, okay. I know. You’re serious.”

The elf sighed and continued washing. She’d accumulated a lot of grime over the last few days. The rain hadn’t helped at all. She had mud and blood caked in the absolute worst places. The chance to wash up was a true blessing from the gods.

“So,” Artemis said slowly. She started a lot of conversations with that little word. “You said you had other Warden friends. You think they made it out?”

Maiara scrubbed at her skin with a stone from the streambed. “I hope so. My commander believed they would have made it.”

The mage nodded and copied her actions with the stone. She probably wasn’t used to bathing in the wilderness. “I hope they made it. I know not everyone believed it, but… this is a Blight. We need the Wardens.” She narrowed her eyes in a glare as she scrubbed at her skin. “How could this happen? There was supposed to be a flanking charge. It never… did they abandon us?”

She heard tears cracking Artemis’s voice and looked up. The other woman was staring at her with watery eyes and a broken countenance. Maiara felt her mouth go dry as she thought back to that night.

Swords clashing, her ears ringing, the rain was so cold. The darkspawn beat at them again and again. The signal was lit… the charge never came. She remembered the cold certainty that had settled over her heart, granting her the knowledge that it was true. They _had_ been abandoned.

Looking away from Artemis, she dunked her head into the water. She knew it would take forever for her hair to dry, but she needed the shock. She came up with a sharp gasp and the world was clearer.

Vibrant periwinkle eyes still gazed at her across the water.

“Yes.” She said at last, looking up to meet her stare. “There was… animosity between the king and his general. I thought it was nothing. Just human politics.”

A memory of a whisper; words spoken softly against the dark that no other human would hear.

“My fellow Wardens and I,” Maiara explained slowly, thinking back to the moments after the Joining. “Our commander wanted us present for a meeting over the battle strategy. There were many present alongside the king and his general. The man, Loghain, was irritated about every word that fell from the king’s mouth. He didn’t even want Wardens present to be sure the signal was lit.”

“It _was_ lit, though.” Artemis said, obviously working to reign her tears in. “We saw it.”

The Warden nodded. “Yes. It was. I think the king was right to send extra men.” Could Nereus and Alistair have survived? Ostagar must have been overwhelmed and they were at the top of a tower surrounded by darkspawn. “When the strategy was concluded, the king spoke of how ‘glorious’ it would be to fight beside the legendary Grey Wardens.”

Artemis snorted when she laughed. “Yes, that sounds like King Cailan alright. He was overly fond of going about and giving speeches to the soldiers. I liked it. He had a wonderful voice.”

Maiara winced, thinking back to the visceral scream the king had let out when he’d died. She pushed the thought away and continued. “Loghain turned away after that and he said something so quiet that I wasn’t sure I’d heard… no one else would have heard it, anyway. I didn’t think there was such malice behind his words. Not until I looked up to see the signal burning in the sky like a star as my commander lay dying.”

She’d finished scrubbing and washing as much as she could. She’d get dressed and clean the armor as well as she could by firelight. She heard the slosh of water as Artemis rose to follow her.

“What did he say?” She sounded cold, somehow, yet furious at the same time.

“‘Yes, Cailan. A _glorious_ moment for us all.’”

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, I've really slowed down.  
> I've been a little busy with conventions, DLC, and trying to find a new place to live, but I'm still writing this stuff. The drawing takes a little while sometimes, too. I'm hoping to still update at least once a week (I know there were some once a month updates), but we'll see how that goes.


	29. Road Hogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lothering at long last. Things start falling apart even as things come together.

\--------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 13th

\--------------------------

 

 

Sometime after reaching the Imperial Highway, evidence of other survivors began to show. Recently abandoned camps on the road, signs of fighting, discarded belongings, and more than a few bodies paved the way.

Leif kept his hands hovering near his blades at every obstacle, waiting for someone – or something – to ambush them on the road. He figured some of the survivors had either turned on each other or encountered other enemies along the way. It didn’t look like Ostagar was the only battleground any more.

Lucky walked confidently at his side, showing no signs of discomfort or wariness. Adora’s hound, Lady, was the same. While the two Wardens jumped at every sound, the dogs gave no indication that there was anything wrong. He should have taken it as a good omen that the dogs weren’t worried. He knew their senses were sharper than his and Adora’s, but he still couldn’t help but feel vulnerable raised so high up from the ground. There was a sense of darkness and heaviness to the air, even under the bright eye of the sun. It made his skin crawl.

Adora seemed to be reacting worse than him. She’d done okay enough on the way to Ostagar those days ago, but all of the energy seemed drained out of her at this point. He got the distinct impression that she wasn’t used to as much physical activity as he was. Still, she didn’t complain as much as she’d warned she might.

They’d been walking and camping along the Highway for days since Lucky had joined them. The poor dog was still filthy from his flight from Ostagar and they hadn’t seen another rain. They’d passed enough ditches filled with water, but it all looked like muck to Leif. He didn’t want to make things worse by having the dog roll in the mud.

Their canteens were already empty. The food that Lady and Lucky had rustled up had been stretched thin, too. There wasn’t exactly much hunting to be done on the massive stone roadway they walked. Every so many miles there were stone steps that led down to the ground below, but they didn’t have any luck down there either. Most signs of animal life had already fled the surrounding area, probably due to the Blight.

If they didn’t make it to the village soon, they probably weren’t going to get to use those Grey Warden treaties.

Leif was _starving_. Having starved a lot in Dust Town, he didn’t use the word lightly. Normally it would take him way more time to get to that point, but he’d never been this hungry before. They’d stretched out the rabbits and nug as much as they could over the last couple of days, but between him, Adora, and the dogs, it just wasn’t enough. It felt like his insides were trying to consume themselves at this point!

“Leif,” Adora said quietly, drawing his attention from his aching stomach. “Look.”

He frowned at the worry in her voice and his fingers traced the hilts of his blades as he looked ahead. There were wagons blocking the road. Beyond that, he could see the beautiful sight of human buildings in the distance. They’d finally made it to the village.

Leif spotted a body lying in the road.

“That’s not a good sign.” He grumbled, slowing his steps slightly.

Both Lucky and Lady had their ears pricked and growls rumbling in their throats.

“Neither is that.” Adora added softly.

Armed men stepped out from beyond the wagons.

“Shit.” The dwarf sighed, coming to a halt.

Their group stood some distance away from the bandits, but he could clearly see that the odds were against them. The bandits had yet to draw their weapons, however. That… surely that meant _something._

“Greetings, travelers!” One of the bandits called out cheerfully. “There’s no need to be afraid! Lothering lies just ahead!”

Leif’s frown deepened. “Lothering?”

“The village,” Adora clarified. “We can’t exactly turn around, can we? They have archers. The nearest stair down was miles ago!”

Leif gritted his teeth and stomped forward. “Guess we’ll have to figure something out, won’t we?”

He didn’t look back, but he could hear Adora and the hounds following him. Lucky bumped his hand affectionately and he knew it was the dog’s way of saying “I’ve got your back.”

As he drew closer to the bandits, he could make out smaller details about the men and their operation. The setup looked suspiciously like the last group of bandits they’d dealt with on the way to Ostagar. Maybe it was an offshoot of the same gang? Or maybe they saw the previous setup and thought they could improve upon it.

 _We could use a crazy mage about now._ Leif thought, cringing at the thought of what Nereus had done to the men they’d fought before. He could definitely see how magic could be useful in a fight, at least.

“Welcome, welcome!” The same man from before called out, sounding just as jovial as any merchant. “My, what an odd pair you two make! A dwarf and a pretty girl, strolling along with their pets. Surely you didn’t just come from Ostagar!”

Leif glared up at the dark haired human as he talked.

“I can’t see how any of that is your business, ser.” Adora said coolly, surprising Leif.

The man laughed good-naturedly. “Oh, my apologies! Well, you are correct. My business, however, does require that I ask you to pay the toll. A simple ten silvers should do and then you can be on your way.”

“ _Ten_?” Leif sneered at the man.

Adora stepped forward. “You are tax collectors, then?”

The man laughed and the thugs behind him joined in. “Not _exactly._ ”

“We’re robbing you, ya see?” One of the particularly large men said, as if they didn’t understand.

To his shock, Adora lifted her chin and glared at the bandits. “Oh, I _see_ alright, thank you very much.”

“Uh, Adora…” Leif tried interjecting, not liking the way the men were looking at them.

“Not now, Leif.” She said with authority, not backing down an inch. “Do you fools see these hounds? These are Mabari _war hounds_. They can tear out your throat before you even _blink_. Don’t even think about what they’d do to your pathetic excuse for balls-”

“See here, miss-”

“As if you have the right to speak to me thus!” She snapped, taking another step forward. “You think you can threaten a pair of Grey Wardens and their-”

“ _Wardens?_ ” The largest man took a fearful step back. “Them ones killed the king!”

“ _What?!_ ” Leif hissed, hands on his daggers.

“Traitors to Ferelden, I hear. Teyrn Loghain’s put quite the bounty on their heads.” The leader said gleefully, a sick smile stretching his lips wide.

“Are you _mad?_ ” Adora gasped, completely ignoring the way the men were looking at them now. “The Grey Wardens did no such thing!”

“Sorry sweetheart, but that’s the news.” The man laughed, moving to draw his blade.

Before he could, however, the larger man put a trembling hand on his shoulder. A look of irritation passed through the bandit leader’s eyes before he turned to look at his companion.

“Come now, Hanric, you know how this goes.” He said amiably, but released his hold on his weapon.

The large bandit, Hanric, shook his head. “But boss, ain’t them Wardens good? Good enough to kill a king?”

The man slowly looked back at Leif, Adora, and the hounds, his eyes running over each of them in turn. He finished, staring at Adora last and sighed.

“Well… maybe we’ll let you pass. Just this once.” He mumbled, slumping his shoulders and motioning for his men to step aside.

“A wise decision.” Adora said coldly, keeping her back and shoulders straight.

Leif was willing to bet it was partly Hanric’s fear and partly Adora’s shrewd attitude that had changed the man’s mind. He didn’t know she had it in her to be so sharp and fearless.

 _No sense in letting it go to waste, however._ He halfway worried about pushing the bandits a bit too far, but he had a good feeling about this group.

Adora and the hounds had started walking towards the wagons. Leif stopped with a toothy smile in front of the leader.

“You know, the Grey Wardens lost a lot at Ostagar. This _is_ a Blight. We could use a donation.”

The bandit frowned and took a step back. “You don’t say.”

“They is _really_ good, boss.” Hanric said fearfully.

The man sighed and dug around in his coin purse. “Well, perhaps it’s about time we make a donation. Say, thirty silvers? That’s all we’ve, ah, collected today.”

Leif held his hand out expectantly, although he kept the other trained on his dagger. “A smart choice. The Grey Wardens thank you for your generosity.”

“Right, right,” the bandit said with a frown as he pocketed the remains of his purse. “Enjoy Lothering. It won’t last long.”

Leif aimed another broad grin at the man before turning to follow after Adora and the hounds. He kept expecting them to turn on them, but they were good on their word and let them pass. He was glad that they did. There were more men waiting beyond the wagons, rifling through boxes and watching them walk by. A little further past the bandits and the Highway crumbled down into a river, leaving a large gap between where they stood and the rest of the road. Luckily, a set of stairs ran down the side into the village.

“We’ll have to go through Lothering to get to the other side,” Adora said, matching his look of dismay at the state of the road. “Come on.”

Leif nodded and followed her down. There were scores of tents and shelters constructed along the expanse of land in front of them. There were countless people wandering around, scavenging it looked like, and many more lying and moaning in pain. Not many of them appeared to be soldiers, but there were definitely more than a few that had come out of the bad end of a fight. Many more looked sick.

There was a wooden fence that separated the refugees from the village itself and there were armed villagers standing watch, turning people away.

“You think they’ll let us in?” Leif asked uneasily and they shuffled through the refugee camp.

Adora chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully. “I suppose they must. We’re armed, aren’t we?”

“You think we’ll have to fight?” He asked, surprised. If she could talk her way out of fighting bandits, surely she could talk her way out of fighting a few scared villagers.

After a moment’s consideration, the girl shook her head. “No, I don’t.”

They made it to the fence and a doughy, bearded human with a hammer quickly stepped aside without a word. Adora turned to face him and smiled politely.

“Pardon me,” she said gently, keeping her hands away from her weapons as she spoke. “My friend and I are passing through. Do you know of any work in town for unique services? We’d be happy to help with just about anything.”

The man frowned suspiciously. “You’re askin’ the wrong man. Check the Chanter’s Board.”

She nodded. “Excuse me, then. Thank you.”

They continued past the barricade and Leif let out a sigh of relief. Adora looked down at him and he noticed the dark bags under her eyes for the first time. She looked like shit.

“Are you alright?” She asked softly, her head turning as her eyes scanned the surrounding area.

Leif made a grunting sound in reply. “Starvin’. And confused.”

Her grey eyes sparkled with mirth when she turned to look at him. “As am I. Starving, that is. Why are you confused?”

He stopped suddenly and turned to face her. “You kiddin’ me? What was _that_? How did you pull that off?”

“Oh, you mean the bandits?” She asked, stopping as well. “I was terrified, I admit. I thought I could bluff them with the whole Grey Warden thing. Legendary heroes and warriors and all that.” She paused, slowly shaking her head. “I just… I was so _angry_. How could the teyrn _do_ this to us? How could he lie like that? And who would be so damned foolish to believe that the Grey Wardens would _ever_ do anything to help the darkspawn?!”

Leif had been clenching his fists during her whole explanation. He felt the same. He’d been pissed as fuck that they’d called the Wardens traitors. If they’d had the means to do anything about it, he’d have been happy to teach them a lesson in respect… But they’d been outnumbered. They were lucky that big oaf had been scared of their supposed traitorous deeds.

“I dunno,” he admitted, not for the first time. He uncurled his fingers and heaved a sigh. “But we’re gonna find out. Soon as Nereus and Alistair find us.”

Adora sighed in frustration and nodded. “May the Maker guide them safely to our side.”

* * *

 

 

They walked slowly into Lothering, noting the sad state of the tiny village. The locals were clearly terrified. There were so many refugees from the south and so few of them were ready to just pass through. They thought they’d be safe in the humble village; or maybe they were just too scared to admit that the south was lost.

More than a few dwellings looked abandoned. Although that didn’t come across as a sign to the other villagers that they could perhaps let a few more refugees in.

Leif frowned darkly at the status of the village. It didn’t look like anyone was trying to _help_ anyone but themselves. There were a few beggars on the streets and while he wanted to help, he could only turn away. He had nothing that he could spare. If what the bandits said was true, then they’d need every copper at their disposal to keep themselves free from bounty hunters.

He realized he was the only one clad in Grey Warden armor. Adora hadn’t been keen on giving up her family armor quite yet, so she could pass for another soldier. He clearly had the trademark griffons emblazoned across his chest, however. He’d have to see about finding a cloak to obscure the classic Warden crest.

He realized Adora was leading them to a large stone wall. There was a wooden board posted outside with a man in robes speaking monotonously at its side.

“Let all repeat the Chant of Light.” The man said as they approached. “Only the Word dispels the darkness upon us.”

“Er, what?” Leif wasn’t sure if the man was talking to them or just spouting nonsense.

“He’s a Chanter,” Adora explained as she looked over notices posted on the board. “They’re sworn to spread the Chant of Light across Thedas. They’re only allowed to speak the Chant. Holding a conversation with them is impossible.”

He’d heard very little of the human belief system, but it didn’t sound any more ridiculous than dwarven beliefs. Although he was pretty sure most casteless only paid lip service to the Ancestors out of habit. He didn’t believe. Why should he? He didn’t exist in the Memories. The Stone held nothing for him.

As if trying to explain, the Chanter recited: “And so Rajmael in the heathen temple recanted.

‘Speak only the Word; sing only the Chant.

Then the Golden City is thine,’ spoke Andraste.”

“Riiiight.” Leif said slowly, stepping over to the board to glance over the papers. There were two requests posted and neither of them sounded like something the two of them could accomplish on their own. Even with two powerful war hounds, they’d have a difficult time dealing with _more_ bandits.

“We’ll have to wait for the others to join us before we can even consider these,” Adora said tiredly.

Leif’s stomach audibly growled and he looked up sheepishly. “Uh, maybe that’s for the best. We might want to find some food first.”

Adora smiled and nodded. “Indeed. Well, let’s see about finding a tavern then, shall we?”

* * *

 

The tavern was easy enough to find. The village was as silent as a tomb once the refugee camps were left behind. The tavern was the only building with enough noise and crowd to draw any attention. It was just over a small stone bridge beside the river; there were yet more people camped outside, but most of them seemed to take advantage of the location and held a drink in hand.

Leif’s nose wrinkled at the smell. It reminded him too much of home; stale sweat, bile, urine… all the trademark scents of Dust Town. It was colder on the surface though, so at least the horrible smell didn’t sit as heavily in the air as it did in the humid tunnels underground.

“Charming,” Adora commented blandly as a passing man promptly threw himself on the riverbank to vomit.

The dwarf shook his head at the gross sight and led the way up to the tavern. “Let’s just hope they’ve got as much food as ale.”

Stepping inside was a surprising breath of fresh air. The inhabitants of the tavern were far less rowdy than the ones outside. The building was still jam packed with bodies, but these ones weren’t leaking any kind of fluids anywhere. The lighting was dim, punctuated by a roaring fire and plenty of sconces on the walls and lanterns from the ceiling. The bartender was keeping busy, but the patrons seemed downright tame aside from a small group of armed men in a corner. There was even a musician upstairs.

When the door closed behind them, Leif noticed the armed men looking at them strangely.

“I have a bad feeling about this…” He muttered quietly as one by one the men stood and crossed the room towards them.

“Well, look here men,” a man, presumably the leader, shouted loudly over the din. “Weren’t we just asking about any Grey Wardens in town?”

“Indeed we were,” a particularly dubious man said with a smile. “Seems we were lied to.”

Adora stepped in front of Leif, blocking his standout armor from sight. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken.”

Leif knew it was already too late. His stomach clenched in hunger and dread. He didn’t know how this would go. He didn’t know if the townsfolk would turn on them if they decided they wanted in on the bounty. The best they could hope for would be for only one of them to be taken. Adora wasn’t marked by the Warden armor. She had the treaties. If he surrendered himself, then she still had a chance of meeting with Nereus and Alistair.

Before he could open his mouth, another voice captured the attention of the armed men.

“Now, gentlemen, surely these are simply more poor souls driven here by the Blight.”

Leif frowned at the strange accent and peered around Adora to see another woman – another redhead – stepping up from her table. She wore robes similar to the Chanter from earlier, but she carried a sword and dagger. The way she moved implied that she knew well enough how to use them if it came down to it.

“Back off, Sister.” The leader of the armed strangers growled. “This is king’s business. The Wardens are traitors to Ferelden and they will be held accountable. Any who stand with them will share their fate.”

“Nugshit!” Leif snapped, pushing past Adora, who squeaked in protest. “Teyrn Loghain turned his back on the king as soon as the signal was lit!”

“Lies!” The man drew steel and stomped forward. “I was there! The Teyrn pulled us out of a trap!”

“The Grey Wardens would _never_ help the darkspawn! Are you that fucking stupid?” Leif continued baiting him, drawing his blades as well. “Loghain’s an even bigger fool than I thought, selling that shit excuse for a lie.”

The man screamed unintelligibly and swung his sword down towards Leif. The dwarf quickly dove under the blade, tackling the man to the ground. He could hear fighting around them, but he focused on the man he’d thrown to the ground. He’d knocked the wind out of him with his tackle; seizing the opportunity to disarm his opponent, he slammed the hilt of his blade on the man’s sword hand, causing him to howl in pain. Dropping his weapons to the floor, he hauled his arm back and landed a solid hit on his opponent’s jaw.

Leaving the man unconscious, he retrieved his weapons and rolled out of the way of another swinging blade. The other men were engaged with Adora, the hounds, and the newcomer, but that didn’t stop them from trying to take him out, too.

Leaping up from the tavern floor, Leif lashed out at the nearest enemy, slashing behind knees and striking at exposed sides when he had the chance. Between him and the others, the men were quickly dealt with; either through surrender or death.

Leif turned to find that Adora was fine, simply breathing heavily. _Good_. The dogs looked fine, although there was a lot of blood so it was hard to tell right away. They didn’t seem to be moving as if they were in pain. The last person he checked was the woman who’d tried interceding before. Her robe somehow remained immaculate, although he was sure he’d seen her blurred form fighting.

“Well,” he gasped out at last, looking around at the mess they’d made and the tavern patrons staring in horror. “I think that went well.”

* * *

 

They ended up letting the leader of the headhunters live.

“Take a message to Loghain for me.”

The man had nodded fearfully, gripping the wrist that Leif had broken when he’d disarmed him. “I will. Whatever you say.”

“The Grey Wardens know the truth. We’re comin’ for him.”

He’d nodded his head over and over as he slinked past their group. “Yes, thank you. I’ll tell him.”

The coward had scampered out the door as fast as his legs would carry him.

Surprisingly, the owner of the tavern didn’t seem all that upset with the ruckus.

“Those soldiers have been causing trouble for days. I’m glad to be rid of ‘em.” He confessed, helping Leif as he carried the bodies out the door.

There was a convenient mass grave outside of town – too many refugees dying from wounds, sickness, or outright murder. Bodies were burned every few days in the pit. There just weren’t enough resources around town to tend to each body individually. Not to mention many of the victims were complete strangers.

It was grunt work, taking the bodies out of the tavern, but the owner was happy enough to chat with Leif about the state of Lothering. Refugees started pouring in the night Ostagar fell. He’d been one of the many who’d thought King Cailan and the Wardens would be victorious, stopping the darkspawn threat from spreading. Once the previous camp followers (and more than a few deserters) came running down the Imperial Highway, they’d learned the truth. Teyrn Loghain had passed by later that night; his soldiers told anyone who would listen about how the Grey Wardens had betrayed the king, forcing the Teyrn to pull his men out before it was too late for them, too.

“I just don’t see why the Wardens would do something like that!” He said in disbelief.

Leif frowned. “They didn’t. I was there. My commander left me behind to protect important documents. I saw the signal light and I watched as the Teyrn turned tail.”

They were washing their hands down by the river. The pudgy human looked at him and his eyes focused on the gleaming griffon crest. “Those soldiers were right. You’re a Warden.”

“Do you believe them?” Leif asked warily, standing and rubbing his icy hands on the brigandine.

The man hesitated and watched him just as warily. They stared at each other for several moments before he shook his head. “No. I don’t know what happened, but I do know this: the Grey Wardens fight darkspawn. There’s no reason for them to let them win now. Especially not when this is the outcome.”

Leif nodded and they walked back to the tavern. His stomach growled again and the other man laughed.

“You seem hungry, Warden.”

“I, uh… yeah.” He coughed and followed him into the building. Servants had already cleaned the blood. He saw Adora sitting with the other woman upstairs near the musician.

“I’ll have some food brought out. We’ve got bread and stew, so long as you don’t question the meat too much.” He said, taking his place behind the bar again.

Leif smiled dimly. “Good enough for me.”

* * *

 

Her name was Leliana.

She said she was sent by the Maker to help them and she knew them when they walked in the door.

“I know it sounds crazy,” she confessed, blushing and bowing her head. “But it’s true! I had a dream… a vision!”

Leif looked between her and Adora and wasn’t sure exactly what to think. Adora was sitting with a small, skeptical smile and Leliana looked more than a little embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

“Well,” Leif said slowly, after swallowing another delicious mouthful of stew.

He’d already slurped through two whole bowls and eaten an entire loaf of bread. He’d started paying the inn keep – which he’d since learned went by the name Lars – to keep the food coming. Adora was doing about the same. He couldn’t believe they’d both been so hungry. Apparently when he’d left with Lars to deal with the bodies, Adora had practically fainted from hunger into Leliana’s arms.

Leliana had then taken her upstairs to eat and rest while the dogs worried at her feet. The hounds had their own bones to gnaw on; they’d had meat to begin with and chewed through to the bone almost instantly.

Now they were all well settled in and listening to Leliana speak with her strange, lilting accent. Leif had never heard such an accent before; it was beautiful.

She was waiting for him to continue his reply. He grunted and sat up straight. “Well, I dunno what’s crazy ‘bout it.” Her eyes lit up at his words and he felt himself smiling. “I don’t have experience with dreams or gods. If you say the Maker sent you, maybe He did. We can use all the help we can get.”

He looked to Adora for confirmation and she was smiling, too. “Oh, yes. We do need help.” Her expression darkened as she looked down at her stew. “You heard what those men said. Lies, of course, but there are always those willing to believe the worst. Teyrn Loghain has created quite the mess for us, hasn’t he?”

Leliana nodded, her own blue eyes narrowing in response. “Indeed, he has. I could scarcely believe my own senses when I heard what the soldiers were saying. There were far too many inhaling the lies they spewed. This will not be an easy journey.”

“It never was.” Leif laughed, delving back into his stew. He felt much better with food in his gut. The bandits, Loghain’s lackeys, and the sad plight of the refugees… it was much more manageable now that his insides no longer felt like collapsing.

“I can imagine,” Leliana said inquisitively. “You must have had quite the journey already.”

“Yeah, well…” Leif finished devouring his second loaf of bread and leaned back in his chair. “It’s a long story.”

“I adore stories.”

Leif wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He wasn’t really much of a story teller. Talking about what led him to the Wardens wasn’t really something he wanted to talk about, anyway. He was ashamed of his life with the carta. He’d never wanted to be a criminal, but he didn’t have any other choice. Sweeping the streets and digging through midden heaps wasn’t exactly a good way to make coin.

Fortunately he was spared from a response by Adora.

“Leliana,” she said smoothly, drawing the other redhead’s attention. “You said you were a Sister?”

“I was,” Leliana confirmed, sitting back in her chair. “A lay sister. I never took vows.”

Adora nodded and smiled. “Of course. I merely wanted to compliment your abilities. You must have had quite the journey yourself before coming to the Chantry.”

Leliana was silent for a moment before an appreciative smile spread across her lips. “Indeed. It’s a long story.”

Leif sighed in relief. They all had pasts they wanted to remain in the dark. He set his bowl on the floor for Lucky to finish; he was done eating.

“Why don’t we see about more work?” He said, pushing his chair back from the table. “I’m gonna ask Lars if he’s heard anything.”

Adora smiled and waved him off. “We’ll catch up.”

He vaguely wondered how much the two of them had talked before he’d joined them. He didn’t understand how women could communicate so much to each other with so few words. It would be nice if he knew how to do that himself.

Lucky trailed after him, having finished the rest of the stew before Leif had even stood up. The dog seemed to have an appetite to match the Wardens. He rubbed the dog’s head and went downstairs to talk to Lars.

* * *

 

 

Apparently there were a lot of simple things to be done around the village. Some old guy wanted poison for his traps, another person just wanted traps, and another wanted healing herbs and poultices. Leif wasn’t any good with herbs and poison, but he could _definitely_ work out some traps. There were plenty of supplies to be scavenged around the village. He’d found everything he needed to make a few simple spring traps.

He was sitting by the river next to the stone bridge, finishing the traps. The girl who’d been asking around lived right around the corner, so he figured he’d at least get them set before bringing them to her. Leif was just finishing the third trap when he heard footsteps headed in his direction. He looked down at Lucky and the dog seemed completely unperturbed, so he went back to focusing on the trap. He’d asked Lars to send anyone his way if they were offering work, so he wasn’t surprised that someone would already take him up on it.

“Well, if it isn’t just the dwarf we were looking for.” A cool, familiar voice crooned from behind him, causing his skin to prickle uncomfortably.

Leif practically jumped out of his skin trying to rise without setting off any traps. “You-”

“Yes, _me._ So… where’s the girl?”

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never mind anything I say about schedules. There were some real life emergencies that needed tending.


	30. Three Reasons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nereus, Alistair, and Morrigan arrive at Lothering.

\--------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 13th

\--------------------------

 

As promised, Morrigan led them out of the Wilds once more. Alistair said several times that he’d sensed the darkspawn nearby and each time Morrigan had snidely reminded him that they would remain hidden from the blighted creatures. They escaped the damp forest without incident – aside from those that arose between the templar-trained Warden and the callous Witch of the Wilds.

Nereus occasionally tried mediating, but gave up altogether after realizing he was simply taking sides. Sometimes he agreed with Alistair and they’d argue with the witch about her mannerisms. Other times he’d grow annoyed with Alistair’s constant, passive aggressive comments about apostates and illegal magic. More often than not the both of them would grow tired of his constantly shifting allegiance and he would grow quiet.

 

 _I could use Adora right about now_ , he thought glumly for the nth time that day. The young noblewoman had had a way with words that made her seem as if she were on everyone’s side and perhaps they should all take a deep breath and calm down. Nereus was not so agreeable in his way of speaking and he knew it was a flaw. It wasn’t as if he _wanted_ to get along with everyone. He just needed them to work as a cohesive unit and their constant bickering was wearing on his already frayed nerves.

They’d been trekking through the hills and valleys of the Hinterlands for days before Morrigan led them to the Imperial Highway. The whole trip had been filled with a relentless back and forth snapping of wits between the Wardens and the witch. Finally making it onto a road seemed to bring them to a sudden ceasefire. The terrain of the Hinterlands was rough; at least for Nereus and Alistair. Nereus had done fairly well during his trip from the Circle to Ostagar, but they’d spent most of the time on maintained roads, not roughing it in the middle of nowhere. Even the Brecilian Forest had had its share of natural pathways and gently rolling hills. The Hinterlands were awkward and challenging and he hoped to never see them again.

They’d only been walking along the stone road of the Highway for a few hours when Nereus saw a town peeking up around the bend. There were dozens of rooftops scattered about, some of them nestled snugly in the small collection of hills near the river. There was even a good sized windmill a little further out.

“Please tell me that’s where we’re going.” He said plaintively, risking a glance back at Morrigan, who kept herself at an impersonal distance from the two men.

The dark haired witch nodded as her bright yellow eyes narrowed in on a point in the distance. “Indeed. Lothering lies not so far ahead. However, it seems we have a different issue to contend with at present.”

 _Lothering…_ When she’d first mentioned it back in the Wilds he’d wondered about it. Nereus flicked his eyes back to the road and he saw what she meant. There were merchant wagons blocking the road ahead and he was immediately reminded of the bandits they’d dealt with on the way to Ostagar.

“Knicker bandits,” he whispered under his breath, instinctively reaching for the staff he no longer carried.

Alistair snorted. “ _What_?”

He flexed the fingers of his right hand, calling on his magic and letting ice tinkle musically in his palm as he spoke. “We fought bandits on the way to Ostagar with a setup like this.”

“Did they wear knickers on their faces instead of masks?” Alistair asked lightly, unable to suppress the sudden grin that traced his lips.

Nereus laughed. “That might have helped their case, but no. They’d robbed a merchant and used the boxes as cover. When we’d dealt with them, Leif and I decided to crack open one of the boxes. They were filled with women’s underthings. I think they were Orlesian imports.”

Alistair chuckled softly and shook his head. “I’ll bet _that_ was a surprise.”

“It certainly was.” He agreed, shaking his hand and letting the ice melt and drop to the ground. “Let’s see if these men were as lucky in looting as the last.”

 

Several armed men sat on boxes stacked around the wagon blockade. Nereus was sure there were more lying in wait, but he couldn’t see them from his side of the wagons. One of the men looked up and smiled at their approach.

“Wake up, gentlemen!” He called merrily to his relaxed companions. “More travelers to attend to! I’m guessing _that_ fellow is the leader.”

“You’ve got an eye for leadership, ser.” Nereus said with a smooth smile.

A large, muscled man came out from behind the wagons, carrying a massive sword at his side. His dull eyes scanned over the three of them before he did an obvious double take and settled on Nereus.

“Boss,” he said nervously, moving to stand behind the man who’d first spoken. “He’s another of them Wardens.”

“So he is,” the bandit said, eying the blue and silver armor Nereus wore. “Only the one, I’d wager. And unarmed.”

“Is that a threat I detect?” Nereus asked casually, smiling at the bandit as if they were old friends.

Morrigan huffed behind him. “They are fools to get in our way. I say teach them a lesson.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree.” Alistair grumbled on his right. “They’ve been preying on those fleeing the darkspawn. We can’t allow this.”

“We’ve already been bluffed by others claiming to be Grey Wardens,” the bandit said, no longer playing pretend. “You three look far less capable. I suggest you hand over thirty silver – that’s ten for each of you – and you can be on your way.”

Nereus laughed. “Oh, is _that_ all? Well, in that case… that’s not going to happen.”

The bandit leader frowned, then shrugged and drew his blade. “Well, I can’t say I’m pleased to hear that. We have rules, you know.”

“Right,” said the large man over his shoulder. “We get to ransack your corpse then. Those’re the rules.”

Nereus stood his ground, even as more men advanced out from behind the wagons. He saw Alistair draw his sword and raise his shield and he heard Morrigan muttering something under her breath.

Narrowing his eyes, he waved his arm out in front of himself in a warding gesture before setting out a mindblast of telekinetic energy. The bandits nearest to them skidded back a few steps and the others stopped in their tracks, their eyes widened in panic.

“You imbeciles think you’re up to fighting a mage?” He said contentiously, allowing raw magic to crackle brightly at his fingertips. It was all sparkles for show; he didn’t want to waste mana on his intimidation.

“A mage?!” The largest man gasped, terrified. “I don’t wanna be a toad!”

Morrigan snorted derisively. “Surely an insult to toads the world over.”

“Nobody’s turning you into a toad, you sniveling bastard!” The leader growled, shoving his man back in line. Turning back to Nereus, he offered an apologetic smile. “A Warden mage? Well, I, uh, suppose we can let you go. Just this once.”

Standing rigidly, the Warden kept his icy glare trained on the bandit leader, rolling the conversation over in his mind once more.

“Others claimed to be Wardens, you said.” Nereus said at last, focusing on the leader.

He must have thought that Nereus’s curiosity granted him some sort of leverage, for he smiled smugly and leaned against one of the wagons. “Did I? I’ve seen so many passing by this day, it’s hard to keep track.”

“Is it now?” Nereus said conversationally, letting a cold smile settle into place. “Perhaps I can assist in jogging your memory?”

The bandit rubbed two fingers together. “The clink of coins often has a restorative effect.”

“Are we to put up with this charade?” Morrigan snapped irritably.

“If he’s seen other Wardens we should know.” Alistair countered coolly.

Nereus put a hand up to halt the argument before it could begin. “So we should.” He reached into his purse and pulled out a single sovereign. He could practically see the bandit salivating over the sight of it. He held it up for the man to see before cupping it in his fist and charging it with magic. “I would know if you’ve seen others passing through. Descriptions, too, if you will.”

Crossing the distance between them, he held the coin out for the man to take. He readily scooped it up, already blathering away before it even made its way into his purse.

“Just an hour or so it was, there was a girl, a dwarf, and two dogs.” He said, chatting excitedly as the spelled coin pulsed unseen in time to the magic Nereus had tied to it. “Redhead, beautiful, with some noble armor. The dwarf wore Warden armor.”

“That’s them,” Alistair said ecstatically. “They made it!”

“Won’t make it too far, though.” The bandit continued, shrugging. “Teyrn Loghain has branded the Grey Wardens as traitors. He left men behind to take care of any Wardens that made it out of Ostagar. They’ll be looking for them.”

“ _What_?!” Alistair exclaimed.

“Not now,” Nereus said calmly without turning. He smiled at the bandit. “Thank you for your cooperation. Now… give me three good reasons why I shouldn’t kill you where you stand.”

The man blinked several times as confusion marred his smiling face. “I… what? But I did as you said!”

“That’s one reason, I suppose. Following orders from your superiors is always a good quality.” He said equably, nodding for him to continue.

“I didn’t kill your little Warden friends! And I didn’t kill _you_. Yet.”

Nereus shook his head. “Not good enough.”

He turned and walked back to Morrigan and Alistair, smiling when he saw a panicked look in Alistair’s warm brown eyes.

He whirled, slapping at the angry bandit that had chased after him and flinging him back with a flex of willpower. The man crashed into the wagon he’d been lounging against only moments ago. He looked up with the most startled eyes before his chest exploded from within, causing a shower of red mist to rain down on the men nearby.

“I think it’s time we helped Lothering with their bandit infestation.”

 

* * *

 

 

In a matter of minutes, they’d dealt with the Lothering bandits on the Imperial highway. Alistair had been mildly mortified by his start in the battle, but Morrigan had seemed to approve to some small degree. Or so he hoped. If showing them how capable he was in battle was the way to get their approval and cooperation, then he was game. He still needed practice, he knew, but he also knew he was perfectly capable of being a magical powerhouse if he only put in the time and effort; which meant practice. Meaning he’d probably be picking more than a few fights that seemed out of his control. It was worth the risk.

The wagons, stone, and crates were now covered in a fine layer of gore as well as grime now. Morrigan had a few nasty spells up her sleeve as well. Alistair was just as adept at cutting down humans as he was at taking down darkspawn, which was a relief. Nereus had been afraid the good willed Warden might be squeamish about dealing with enemies that could be seen as people, but he needn’t have worried. Alistair had believed the bandits needed to be dealt with in order to assure the safety of others. He was beginning to think the way to win Alistair over would be through compassion. Just as he was sure that compassion would cause a rift with Morrigan.

 _I have to get Adora back_. She could handle Alistair. That would leave him free to deal with things his way without worrying about the former templar’s comfort levels.

Picking through the remains of the bandits, he found more than a few fat coin purses, including the one belonging to the bandit leader he’d started his show with. The sovereign was intact and rendered innocuous once the magical infection had transferred to the bandit’s flesh. It had been an experiment in seeing how the walking bomb spell transmitted itself. He hadn’t been sure if the gold would hold the charge of spirit magic, but it had. It would have been way less terrifying for his opponents if it hadn’t worked out.

Pocketing all of the coin he found, he made sure he wasn’t leaving anything else of value behind. Something odd caught his attention and he found himself rustling through the belongings of a dead templar. There was a locket and a note, but nothing else.

“What’re you doing?” Alistair asked, crouching down beside him. “Is that a templar?”

Nereus nodded as he stood. “Looks like the bandits got to him. He had this on him. I have no use for it.”

He handed him the locket and note, hoping that he would take it as a sign of goodwill and not for the ambiguous action that it was.

Alistair was silent at first as he read over the contents of the note. “He was looking for the Urn of Sacred Ashes?” He sounded shocked and Nereus looked over to watch his expression. “And he’s from Redcliffe. Ser Donall… I know him. He’s one of Arl Eamon’s knights.”

 _This cannot be mere coincidence._ He didn’t know why he was so sure of that, but he was. Alistair had mentioned Arl Eamon as a potential ally for them. As far as he knew, they were still well over a week out from Redcliffe. What are the odds that they should find a knight from Redcliffe in a little village just outside of the Wilds?

“Why would they be looking for the Urn?” Nereus asked skeptically. It was a fairy tale, after all. They were in the middle of a war, one way or the other. It seemed more than a little impractical for a nobleman to send his knights on a fruitless quest for a religious artifact.

Alistair shook his head and folded the note up into a pocket. “I don’t know… I must find Ser Donall and speak with him. Something is happening in Redcliffe.”

 

* * *

 

 

Morrigan waited for them on the stairs that lead down from the Highway. The rest of the road had crumbled into the river, it seemed, forcing them into the village. Nereus was shocked to see so many tents and ragged shelters pitched along the edge of the town. Refugees must have been pouring in constantly, regardless of the bandits hounding them. It seemed the locals were happy to keep _them_ out, too.

“They’re keeping people out?” Alistair whispered, looking at the armed villagers with disgust in his eyes.

“They are defending their homes from the rabble, are they not?” Morrigan said, sensibly. “Many of these people are ill, stricken by the Blight. It would be unwise to allow it to spread.”

Alistair shook his head in dawning horror at the witch’s words. “These people need _help_. They’re just trying to get ahead of the darkspawn! With the road out, they have nowhere else to go!”

The dark haired mage merely shrugged her pale shoulders. “Perhaps some plan on merely passing through. How many stopped to squat on some villager’s land on the premise of ‘passing through’ before the townsfolk had enough? They seek to protect themselves above all others. Any of these cretins would do the same were they in their place.”

“Wow,” Alistair breathed, taking a step back from Morrigan. “I don’t even know why I’m surprised. Have you no compassion in that hole you call a heart?”

“What I have or lack is of no concern of yours.” Morrigan said with indifference. “You clearly lack a mind of your own, yet I do not deign to point out your handicap at every turn.”

“Oookay, kids, I think that’s enough.” Nereus said, stepping between the fuming blonde and the glaring witch. “Let’s focus on the issue at hand, shall we? We have companions to find, do we not?”

Sparing Morrigan one last withering glare, Alistair stepped back and stalked off towards the wooden fence separating Lothering from the refugees.

Nereus watched him go before turning his eyes on Morrigan. As always, she appeared indifferent to the world around her.

“You could be less antagonistic, you know.” He said, starting to follow after Alistair. He was surprised to see her following alongside him.

“I could.” She admittedly readily. “Yet I feel no need to cater to his naïve notions about the world we inhabit.”

The mage sighed and ran a hand through his wind-tangled hair. He’d kill for a comb. His hair was in so many knots and snarls he was afraid he’d never get it back to the way it was.

“I’m not telling you to like him or to get along with him,” Nereus said plaintively, trying his best to remain cool. There was something about the woman that was vaguely infuriating. “Just don’t poke him so much. He’s a Grey Warden and I need him. I’m not so sure I need you.”

He watched her from the edge of his vision as he spoke and he was sure something strange passed behind her golden eyes.

“I see.” She said, her words stilted and curt. “Am I to assume your promise to my mother was a ruse, then? A means to be taken beyond the Wilds so as to rejoin your companions?”

Nereus shivered. Something in her voice made him uneasy; not that the idea of reneging on a promise to a legendary witch was a comforting thought all on its own.

“No.” He said shortly before stopping to look down at her.

Morrigan stood with her back straight, her grip on the gnarled wooden staff she carried firm and unyielding. He looked down at her and for a moment they simply silently glared at each other. He took a  calming breath and he could smell something sweet and strange; like blackberries, sage, and something… dark.

 _Is that her?_ He wondered briefly. “I meant what I said to Flemeth. As long as you are with us, you will not come to harm.” His icy blue eyes narrowed. “However, you must be _with_ us. Picking fights with my companion, someone who is necessary to fighting the Blight, is not how you prove your worth. We have enough enemies. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Morrigan watched him for a moment more before her long, dark lashes lowered, obscuring her strange eyes from sight.

“You are correct. We need not be at odds.” She straightened her shoulders and looked up again. “Yet we need not be friends, either.”

“I can take that.” He said.

He meant it.

 

* * *

 

 

Alistair had already gone off on his own. Nereus figured he needed the time to cool off, so he didn’t go looking for him. Lothering wasn’t exactly a sprawling cityscape; he’d find him when he needed to.

It was down to him and Morrigan wandering the streets, looking for any sign of Leif or Adora. Knowing that there were people looking out for Wardens, Nereus knew better than to ask too many pointed questions.

They came across some trouble in the market between a Chantry sister and a merchant. The merchant offered to pay Nereus to chase off the sister. He must have looked like he could take on the small crowd that stood with the priestess, because they took off at the slightest threat. The merchant paid him a sovereign and offered a discount on his merchandise, which more than made up for the small trouble.

He sold some of the valuables he’d pulled from the bandit stash and purchased food, travel supplies, and a few cloaks. It would be too much to hope that they’d find affordable armor that was a higher quality than the Warden armor, so cloaks would have to suffice for disguising the griffon crests. If what the bandit said was true, appearing to be Grey Wardens may be more trouble than it was worth.

They passed over a small stone bridge and just as Nereus was beginning to wonder about the size of the village, he spotted a familiar set of armor.

Smiling to himself, he approached the blue and silver form at the edge of the river.

“Well, if it isn’t just the dwarf we were looking for.”

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, looks like the future of AO3 is being questioned...  
> I like this place better than ff.net, so that's a real bummer. I'm gonna have to start posting both here and there just to make sure I don't lose anything, I guess.  
> Also, one of my art programs died and I've been having trouble relying on just Corel Painter. The results are... not as satisfying.


	31. Broken Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Further exploration of Lothering.  
> The feud between Morrigan and... well, everyone, begins.  
> Nereus discovers a lost connection and Adora realizes things are worse than they thought.

\--------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 13th

\--------------------------

* * *

 

Nereus

* * *

 

 

After the incident in the market, Nereus was aware that he was perhaps the least eligible person to be speaking with Lothering’s revered mother. Well, maybe Morrigan would win that title, but she wouldn’t even step foot in the Chantry. He briefly considered asking for assistance and quickly decided against it. If things didn’t work out, he didn’t need anyone else knowing any more about him than he wanted them to.

Taking a deep breath and feeling slightly grateful that he _didn’t_ carry a mage’s staff any longer, Nereus walked through the chamber door in the rear of the Chantry.

There were templar guards on either side of the doorway; Nereus somehow resisted the urge to bristle under their scrutiny and instead walked straight towards the older woman seated at the back of the room. When he was past the guards, he subtly shifted the cloak he wore, revealing the silver and blue armor concealed beneath. The Grey Wardens still had a reputation, regardless of the lies being spread.

He saw her give the slightest tilt of her head at his approach and he wondered if she was signaling the templars in some way. If it came to a fight, he would certainly be outmatched.

Instead of a sword in the back, he was greeted with a warm, if slightly weary, smile.

“Welcome, my child. Have you come seeking counsel?” Her eyes roamed over his armor and he wondered how far Loghain’s reach went.

“Of a sort,” the mage admitted coyly. “Your Reverence, I’m sure you are aware of the dark rumors surrounding my order.”

Her eyebrows rose in surprise, wrinkling her forehead. “I am, indeed. I know better, Warden, than to believe everything I hear. I know not what transpired at Ostagar, but I know the Wardens are not villains.”

From what little he could read, the woman seemed sincere. He breathed a sigh of relief. “I am glad to hear it. Now that we’ve gotten past the bronto in the room… I need help finding someone.”

The revered mother did not disguise her questioning look. “An unusual request, from a Warden.”

Nereus smiled charmingly. “Tell me about it. I swear to you, my intentions are pure. I seek only to warn my… acquaintances of the danger the Blight poses.”

She nodded slowly. “I see how it may be improbable to warn others with such rumors floating about. If you could reach even a few, it would be worth the risk.” The robed woman didn’t seem quite ready to give him what he wanted. She gave him a thoughtful look before continuing. “The Chantry is in greater need than usual in these dark times. While your words may be worth too much risk, perhaps a donation may assuage some poor souls of their worry.”

He felt his smile stiffen and made an effort to repair it. He feared she may ask for a bribe – a _tithe_ , she’d insist – and had prepared something just in case. Considering the position of his own people was far more important than those suffering in Lothering. If they were too foolish to run it wasn’t his fault.

Still… he needed his information.

Digging in a pocket he produced a few silver coins. “I’m afraid the Grey Wardens have been having their own problems, as you know. We’ll need all the help we can get with fighting the Blight.” He stepped forward and dropped the silvers into a bowl of coins beside the old woman. “However, we help when we can.”

He felt a swell of something hot in his chest when guilt flickered behind her eyes. She _should_ feel it. They’ll all die if the Grey Wardens fail. Her extortion would save no one and she knew it.

“The Chantry is grateful, Warden.” She assured him nervously, smoothing her robes with withered hands. “How may I assist you with finding your… acquaintances?”

“Does the name ‘Amell’ ring any bells?”

* * *

 

Adora

* * *

 

 

Leliana was a fascinating woman. It was clear that she was not some lowly Chantry sister. The mysterious Orlesian woman had a history and Adora was hoping it might prove useful in the days ahead. It was clear enough that she was an accomplished fighter, for starts. Her words were as poised and carefully executed as her blades, hinting at a background involving nobility. Whether she was a troubled Orlesian noble on the run from her past or merely a well-read traveling sister was a mystery for another day, however.

Adora was regaling her with her view of the battle at Ostagar. After all, if she was to join them, it was best that she know what she was getting herself into. Getting towards the end of her story, she heard Lady bark as she jumped excitedly to her feet. Glancing down to follow the hound’s line of sight, she spotted a figure she hadn’t dared to hope she’d see again.

Leaping up noisily from her own chair – and practically knocking it into the patron behind her – she started down the stairs in a flurry.

“Alistair!”

The blonde warrior looked up from his scan of the room and a brooding look broke into a hopeful smile. It didn’t take him long to cross the room and meet her at the foot of the stairs.

“You’re alive!” He gasped, hesitating in crossing the final distance between them. He looked like he was about to reach out before thinking better of it and settling instead for standing awkwardly at an arm’s length. “I thought you were dead, for sure.”

“I was afraid that may be the case for you…” She looked beyond him towards the door and didn’t see anyone new. Her heart sank. “Alistair, where is Nereus? Please don’t tell me he’s-”

“No!” He said hurriedly, stepping forward and placing a hand on her shoulder. He quickly pulled away. “No. He’s… fine. I left him and Morrigan to conduct their own business. I thought we might cover more ground if we split up.”

Adora let out a sigh of relief. “Thank the Maker. I was afraid we’d lost everyone.” She saw the look of dismay on his face and she realized she’d just done the same thing he had. “Oh, Leif is fine. I wouldn’t have made it without him and Lady. We even found another dog.”

Alistair smiled. “Well, that’s good to hear. You can never have too many dogs. This _is_ Ferelden, after all.”

Lady huffed happily at his words and he leaned over to scratch her ears.

“Forgive me, if I’m a little slow,” Adora said, processing the bounty of good news she’d been given. “Did you say Morrigan was with you? The witch from the Wilds?”

A frown marred the handsome Warden’s lips. “Yes. It’s… complicated.”

Adora nodded and looked back up to the table where she’d left Leliana. The other redhead was watching her with a curious smile on her lips and Adora felt a flush creeping up her neck under the woman’s scrutiny.

Forcing her feelings of insecurity down, she looked back to Alistair. “Why don’t you explain to my friend and I while we wait for the others?”

“Friend?”

* * *

 

Leif

* * *

 

 

When Nereus and the witch had showed up Leif had been more than a little alarmed. Sure, they were all on the same side… so they said. It just worried him that the two mysterious magic users were apart from Alistair, their senior officer. The snarky mage was quick to explain that their blonde warrior had wandered off on his own before proceeding to do exactly the same thing after learning that Adora was fine. Leaving Leif alone with Morrigan.

He finished fiddling with the traps and shot a wary glance up at the dark haired sorceress. She seemed to be steadfastly ignoring him, casting her strange yellow eyes about the village with a look of distaste. For all her actions that implied distance, she remained.

“You know anything about poison?” He asked, picking up the traps and nudging Lucky with his boot. The dog yawned and perked up, wagging his stubby tail and following Leif as he walked around the corner.

He didn’t hear Morrigan following, but her cold, musical voice flowed over him in time with his steps. “I do indeed. Have you a need of such knowledge… or is this for another?”

She was a sharp one, he’d give her that. The woman was all angles and cutting words from what he could tell. She was very unlike the other human women he’d seen.

The young, scared woman who’d asked him about the traps was very grateful when he handed them over. She shakily handed him a purse brimming with silver while eying Morrigan suspiciously. She couldn’t get back in her house fast enough, it seemed.

 _Guess I’m not the only one spooked._ The witch had an aura about her that rubbed him the wrong way. Same with Nereus, if he was being honest. Perhaps that was just his reaction to magic? Dwarves possessed no magic of their own, so it might just be that his recent exposure to magic was putting him on edge.

Leif pocketed the coins and moved on, listening to the folk around the village.

“A lotta people ‘round here are scared,” he said slowly, trying to think over his words before spitting them out. “We can warn ‘em all we want, but they won’t listen. They aren’t gonna leave this town.”

Morrigan was silent for a moment and he wondered if she’d left. He looked back and saw her contemplating his words and moving silently along.

 _How does she_ do _that?_ He wondered. Every other human he’d seen made at least _some_ kind of noise when they walked.

“You are likely correct.” She admitted at last. “Is that why you want to help them? To give their fragile minds some small modicum of comfort as they wait for death to sweep them into its embrace?”

“Maybe.” He said a little defensively. Then he looked away. “Maybe that and… and we’ve got skills they don’t. We need the coin.”

“Honesty at last. How refreshing.” He could hear the approving smile in her voice and it made him uncomfortable. “It is sensible, as well. If these cretins have need of the abilities we possess and they are willing to pay, we should assist.”

Leif gritted his teeth and bit back his retort. The woman was damned cruel. She would’ve done well in the carta, probably. It wasn’t unheard of for them to hire mages from the surface. He’d never worked with them before, but he’d seen strange humans with staffs wandering around. It wasn’t until going to the Circle that he’d realized those people had been mages.

They wandered through the village, picking up pieces of rumor and information along the way. Most of the trouble seemed to be with the bandits on the outskirts. Morrigan told him they’d dealt with the bandits at the village entrance and that was a relief. Some old guy in the tavern had asked about poison and mentioned some giant spiders outside of town, too. The smile the witch gave him when he mentioned the creatures was enough to chill him to the bone.

Rounding a corner, they saw the path leading out of the village. It probably wasn’t safe to go any further with just Morrigan and Lucky. If the bandits or spiders spotted them, he wasn’t too confident about dealing with them. Not as if he hadn’t faced overwhelming odds before it was just… he didn’t trust the dark haired mage.

“What is that?” Morrigan asked, gesturing her gnarled staff at a cage just off the path.

Leif narrowed his eyes and decided whatever it was might be worth a look. As they drew closer, he became aware of a deep, rumbling voice chanting strange words. He realized the voice was coming from the cage, but when he saw the creature inside he couldn’t believe his eyes.

He – that much he was sure of – was taller than any human for starters. Dark, ashy skin, hair as white as clouds, and piercing violet eyes. He’d heard tales of giants, but he’d never thought that he’d see one, especially not caged by humans.

“… Anaan esaam Qun.” When they were close enough to speak, the giant ceased his chanting and leveled his strange, pale violet eyes down at Leif. “You aren’t one of my captors. I have nothing to say that would amuse a dwarf. Leave me in peace.”

Leif couldn’t help but stare and be amazed. He didn’t know giants could speak! Yet… he noticed that Morrigan seemed little more than intrigued. Was he overreacting?

“I, uh…” He frowned, noticing that the creature was just staring at him. “I’ve just never seen anything like you. What are you?”

“A prisoner.” The creature said bluntly. “I am in a cage, am I not? I’ve been placed here by the Chantry.”

Leif rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I get that. But I meant, what _are_ you?”

The prisoner stared at him a moment longer before answering. “I am Sten of the Beresaad – the vanguard – of the qunari peoples.”

“Qun…ari…” The foreign word stuck in his mouth and Leif didn’t like it. He looked to Morrigan and she sighed.

“The horned giants of the far north. They are not often seen this side of the Waking Sea.” She narrowed her eyes at Sten. “Tis unheard of for simple villagers to capture so mighty a creature. I do wonder at this.”

Sten’s frown put deep lines in his dark face. “I have been convicted of murder. Have the villagers not spoken of this?”

Leif turned his thoughts to the bits of conversation he’d scraped together during his tour of the village and paled. “You… you killed a family? With your bare hands?”

The prisoner nodded. “It is as you say. Now I await atonement.”

He was flabbergasted. The qunari, or whatever, seemed to bear no sorrow for his crime. He merely sat there, waiting.

It was Morrigan who surprised him further. “This is a proud and powerful creature, trapped as prey for the darkspawn.” She was expressing more than just apathy for the first time and Leif turned to face her as she spoke. “If you cannot see a use for him, I suggest releasing him for mercy’s sake alone.”

Lucky barked in agreement, having already taken up a stance beside the caged creature.

“Geez, not you, too.” Leif sighed. _Does even a murderer deserve to die at the hands of darkspawn?_ Even that seemed far too cruel a fate.

The qunari disagreed. “I suggest you leave me to my fate.”

 _I am going to regret this…_ Leif sighed. “My… companion is right. You do look powerful. I just happen to find myself in need of skilled help.”

“No doubt.” Sten said dryly. He was difficult to read. “What help do you seek?”

“Funny you should ask,” he said lightly. “On the topic of darkspawn…”

* * *

 

Nereus

* * *

 

 

Taking the revered mother’s information with him Nereus retreated from the Chantry and quickly walked past the few templars that stood outside. The templar that had been just inside the revered Mother’s quarters had given him an odd look, as if he knew what he was. He knew that he would have to keep his guard up for now. As a Warden, he had been safe when outside of the Circle. Now that the Wardens were branded traitors, he might not be so safe. In fact, he may even be worse off and considered both a traitor _and_ an apostate. It wouldn’t be wise to linger around any Chantry influenced places.

_“There are no Amells here.” The revered mother had said coyly. “However, I have heard rumor that Leandra Hawke was once Leandra Amell.”_

With refugees pitching tents everywhere, it was difficult for the mage to maneuver around the displaced populace. A few were injured, many sick, and many more had nothing at all. It was a piteous sight for sure, but he could not help them. They would need more than just luck to find a way to stop the Blight, after all. They could not spare anything for beggars, no matter how bad off they were. He only hoped that his fellow Wardens possessed the same state of mind. If he found out they had given out precious supplies… well, he probably wouldn’t be able to do much. He might just fume about it a bit.

Crossing the stone bridge and entering the general neighborhood of Lothering, Nereus looked about for the house described to him as the one belonging to the Hawke family. Many of the homes were packed together tightly, practically atop one another. There were a few more spread out along the outskirts and even fewer still beyond the common parts of Lothering.

_“The Hawkes have lived in Lothering for a decade.” The old woman had continued. “Poor Leandra. Her husband, Malcolm, died three years ago now. It’s just been her and the children ever since, living in that small farm on the outskirts. They’ve always been very private.”_

Looking at the few homes on the outskirts of the village, it was clear that the majority had been abandoned. A part of him hoped that the Hawkes were long gone, yet another was the part of him that made him walk up to one of the occupied farm holds and knock on the door.

A few moments passed before he heard a voice call out, “Who is it?”

 _Cautious about visitors, hm?_ He thought to himself, not blaming them for a moment. Desperate times and all that. “I was wondering if I could speak to Leandra Amell.”

There was the sound of a bolt being drawn and the door cracked open. The face of a woman in her early forties looked out at him with suspicious eyes. She was rather attractive, even with her graying hair and pinched expression. “I am Leandra Hawke. Amell was my maiden name. Who are you?”

Nereus couldn’t help but smile. “I just needed to be sure. I’m Nereus Amell. I… suppose I’m your cousin.”

Leandra’s thin brows rose in surprise. “Maker’s breath. You’re cousin Revka’s eldest, aren’t you?”

“Guilty as charged.” He could see few similarities between her and his mother. It was enough to make his heart ache. “Would you mind if I came in?”

* * *

 

 

Nereus sat at a modest table across from his cousin Leandra. It was strange to think of her as such, since she was the same age his mother was… would have been. They each held stoneware cups in hand and Leandra had been kind enough to share her wine. It just felt like one of those days.

“I haven’t heard from Revka in years,” Leandra admitted, sipping at her wine. “The last I heard from her was… well, shortly after I moved here. Say, nine years ago?”

Nereus nodded and took a modest drink from the cup. _Fine wine for a poor Fereldan._ He wasn’t really surprised. The Amells had been well off in the Free Marches. He wondered how it was that two of the most promising young women in the family had both absconded with apostates to Ferelden. Maybe they had a type?

“Yes, that was about the time.” He felt strange, talking to her about his mother. He’d never met Leandra before, but his mother had told him and his siblings about her life from before. She’d kept in touch with her favorite cousin and when Leandra left Kirkwall, his mother had reached out to her.

Leandra must have sensed something in his tone. “The time?” Her eyes searched his and she sighed before taking a deep drink. “She is dead, then.”

He wasn’t imagining the sorrow in her voice. Or the misty look about her eyes. He looked away and noticed the windows were boarded up from the inside. They had to be preparing for the darkspawn.

After a few moments of silence, he looked back to see she’d composed herself. While life in Ferelden could not have been kind, Leandra had taken the years in stride. She was still beautiful and there was a grace about her that spoke of the heritage she’d left behind.

“Malcolm… my husband,” she said softly, a faraway look taking root in her gaze. “He died three years ago. There were bandits… he and some of the other men went to confront them. He wouldn’t use his magic and they were overwhelmed.”

 _Ouch._ Another example of a good mage dead. All so the common folk could feel safe from evil, scary magic. _Magic that could have saved them if they weren’t such cowards._

“How did Revka die?” Leandra asked quietly.

Nereus took another drink. He’d never told anyone. Too many at the Circle knew already, but he’d never talked about it.

“My siblings and I were separated when we were caught. Our father, too, was taken. He escaped. We didn’t.” He looked down at his hands. “I was ten when I was taken to the Circle. They wouldn’t tell my mother where they’d taken… the others. But she found me.”

“Did she try to free you?”

“She did. Try, that is.” He sighed and met her eyes from across the table. “After some time, she feared for my safety. She bribed some of the templars. We almost made it. She fought them when they caught up to us… a ‘casualty’ of an encounter with an apostate.”

He held the worst of it in. The memories that cut into him like shards of glass, burrowing deeper into his flesh with every stray thought. It was the night he gave up. Gave up on leaving. On seeing his family again.

Yet… he sat across from a woman who looked so very slightly like his mother. Maybe if he saw her in a crowd, from the sidelines of his vision he might mistake her for his dead mother, a ghost come to haunt him and remind him of his failure.

For a moment, Leandra’s hand hovered just out of reach. Then she touched his, squeezing just a bit before letting go. She drank from her cup. He followed suit.

“Revka was always brave. Even when we were children.” Leandra was staring into her cup as she spoke, with just the faintest smile on her lips. “I would never doubt her devotion to her children. I’m so sorry for you.”

It felt strange, hearing such things from a stranger. Family… but a stranger all the same. He knew the characteristics of her face. He could see some of the same mannerisms his mother had had. But he didn’t know her.

 _This was a mistake._ He felt the sudden urge to flee. He shouldn’t have asked about her. He shouldn’t have come here. He should have remained alone.

Before he could make a move, he heard a creak from the hall.

“Mother?” A soft voice called.

Nereus turned to see a young woman with dark hair, pale skin, and dark eyes looking out from the dim corridor. She wore a simple dress with a scarf and heavy fur lined boots. She looked remarkably like a younger version of Leandra and he could see more of the family resemblance in her.

Leandra smiled and nodded. “Bethany. This is Nereus. I suppose he’s our cousin.”

“I see.” Bethany didn’t seem convinced. She kept her distance and moved to stand behind her mother’s chair.

“Nereus Amell,” he said in greeting. “Formerly of the Circle of Magi.”

Bethany’s eyes widened slightly before narrowing. He supposed she must be looking for some sign that he was either lying or telling the truth.

“You’re a mage as well, are you not?” He asked casually, taking another sip of wine.

Both women stilled slightly in response to his claim. For a moment, he was the only one moving. Leandra was the first to relax.

“You can tell?” She asked softly, as if afraid of being overheard.

He nodded and finished the wine. It was good. “Of course. It may not always be obvious, but we mages do have a sort of _sense_ about us. Your magic is very tightly controlled. I don’t think it would be obvious to anyone that it doesn’t resonate with.”

Bethany slowly moved to a seat between the two of them. “My father said that our magic resonated between us because it’s similar. Templars can’t sense it unless we use it, but another mage with a similar style can.”

“Yes, that’s right. The templars here haven’t looked at me twice. They have no idea what to look for. That’s good, considering a family with apostates has lived here for so long.” He thought his mother had mentioned other children by Leandra. “You must have exceptional control over your abilities.”

It was dark inside the house, so he couldn’t be sure, but she may have blushed. “Thanks to my father and sister, yes. I had the best teachers.”

There was no mistaking the look on Leandra’s face. Something must have happened to her other daughter.

“Your sister is a mage as well?” He asked, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table.

Bethany looked to her mother before answering. “Yes. She went to Ostagar, after my brother. She’s very skilled with a lance, so she made a good soldier…”

Nereus’s brow furrowed and he looked down. “I just came from Ostagar.”

Her brown eyes welled with unshed tears. “I’ve heard the stories. I can’t believe they’re gone. I _know_ Carver is alive. They’re just… they’re just taking a while to come home.”

She sounded so fervent in her belief. He wanted to believe her; believe that two people he’d never met and likely never would had somehow made it out of the mess that Ostagar had turned into. There was something so sincere about the other mage. Suddenly he was glad that he’d come to their door.

“We had help getting here as quickly as we did,” he said, trying to sound hopeful. “Normally it would take days longer to get here.”

Leandra looked up from refilling her cup. “We?”

* * *

 

Adora

* * *

 

 

Shortly after she’d started telling Alistair her rendition of her great escape from Ostagar – finishing the story she’d started for Leliana - Leif and Lucky entered the tavern. Adora had sent Lady down to fetch them and bring them to their growing corner of the upstairs loft. From then, Leif pitched in with the occasional extra detail and they were able to cover their story fairly quickly.

Alistair told them of the assault on the tower of Ishal and how they’d defeated the ogre at the top only to be taken down by darkspawn reinforcements. Apparently they’d been rescued by the swamp witch, who later revealed herself to be Flemeth.

“ _The_ Flemeth?” Adora asked, aghast.

Nodding with a mouthful of bread, Alistair confirmed it. “So she said. I wouldn’t question it. She was… I don’t know. Something about her made my skin crawl. Morrigan is _almost_ as bad. Yet somehow less tolerable.”

Adora all too easily recalled the raven haired beauty who had led them to the treaties. While her manner of dress was beyond scandalous, she’d aided them when they thought their mission had failed. The old woman who she called “mother” was Flemeth… so what did that make Morrigan?

“You mentioned she was with you earlier,” she said.

“Yeah…” Alistair grumbled, glaring down at his stew. “Her mother sent her with us. She led us out of the Wilds without the darkspawn sensing us. Now we’re stuck with her.”

Leif chimed in. “I just left her, actually. She’s outside. Refused to come into the tavern.”

“Thank the Maker for that.” Alistair sighed, returning to his bread and stew.

The animosity he maintained for the apostate was very intense. In the short time she’d known him Adora hadn’t thought he could express such utter disdain for another person. He was a little sarcastic, sure, but she hadn’t expected plain bitterness.

“Is this Morrigan really so bad?” Leliana asked lightly, a total outsider.

The slow, haunted look that came over the senior Warden’s face was a little comical.

“You’ll see.” He said quietly, as if remembering battles past. “Soon enough.”

* * *

 

 

When everyone was properly fed and up to date, they took their party outside. Morrigan was nowhere to be seen. Alistair breathed a sigh of relief and Leif grumbled under his breath.

“Great, where’d that witch wander off to?” The dwarf frowned, straining his eyes to look through the crowds of townsfolk and refugees.

Lucky huffed and started trotting off towards the bridge. Leif didn’t say anything; he just started following the hound.

Adora looked at Alistair and Leliana and saw the both of them watching with mild interest. “I think it’s best that we stick together for now, don’t you agree?”

Leliana smiled. “Oh, yes. Of course. So we are to follow the dog, no?”

“Probably caught her scent. I imagine it’s… unique.” Alistair said, looking very much like he’d rather be going the opposite direction.

Adora just rolled her eyes. He had to be exaggerating. Morrigan had been a little stiff, but she’d still been polite during their encounter in the Wilds. It was probably his aversion to magic that caused him to have an attitude in regards to the apostate.

 _She’s a Witch of the Wilds…_ A familiar voice whispered in her mind. _A daughter of Flemeth. We both heard the tales. She’s dangerous, Adora Bell._

Shivers crept up her spine. She was scared of a ghost. Fergus always liked to tease her.

* * *

 

 

They found her in a small clearing near the Imperial Highway. She was picking medicinal herbs. The dogs barking excitedly startled her out of wherever her mind had wandered in her task. The dark haired witch frowned and stood stiffly, angling herself away from the approaching crowd.

Her yellow eyes skipped over each of them and she tilted her head, reminding Adora of a bird.

“You, I recall.” She said, looking first to Adora, then to Leliana. “Where is the elf from before?”

 _Maiara…_ She’d been with the other Wardens at Ostagar. There was no way she could have made it out of the battle.

Morrigan didn’t wait for a response. “A pity she didn’t make it. So, this is to be her replacement? A Chantry priest? I did not think prayers were an adequate weapon against darkspawn.”

Adora could practically see the tension between Morrigan and the others now. Leliana looked amused rather than offended, though.

“Sadly the darkspawn do not take to the Chant.” Leliana said lightly. “However, I have proven myself capable in a fight. As the Wardens know.”

“Is that so?” Morrigan didn’t seem convinced.

“It is.” Leif said flatly. “Loghain had men waitin’ for us in the tavern. Leliana helped.”

The witch turned from Leif to Adora, the same skeptical look in her eyes. Adora sighed. “It’s true. I doubt we could have handled them so easily without her.”

“I, for one, am grateful to have Leliana along with us. We’ll need all the help we can get.” Alistair added, smiling at their new ally.

Morrigan frowned. “Perhaps your skull was cracked worse than Mother thought… Fine, do as you wish.”

“Anyway!” Adora said loudly, before Alistair could retort. It was clear they’d have a lot of conversation juggling to do with those two. “We’re only missing Nereus now, are we not? What do you say to checking the Chanter’s Board again? We could use the work.”

“Oh yeah,” Leif said, looking up from petting his hound. “I’ve gotta favor to ask.”

Glad for the diversion from Alistair and Morrigan’s bitter stares, Adora turned to the dwarf with a grateful smile. “Ask away.”

“How good’re you at talking?”

* * *

 

 

It was a fair question, in hindsight.

Adora was in the Chantry with Leliana and Alistair. The three of them had agreed to speak with the revered mother about freeing the qunari prisoner. At first Leliana and Alistair had been opposed, but Leif’s explanation convinced them well enough.

“We’re fighting a Blight with no army and no support.” He’d said bluntly, shutting down their objections. “We need the manpower. You two got a better plan?”

“We’ll need all the help we can get.” Morrigan said mockingly, relaying Alistair’s words back to him.

The senior Warden had bit back whatever sharp retort he’d had stored and waited for Adora’s lead.

Now the three of them were walking through the crowded aisle, towards the back where the revered mother would traditionally sit and offer guidance. It was difficult to maneuver with so many people; Adora had never seen a Chantry so packed. People were sleeping on pews, against walls, anywhere away from the walkways. Others wandered, looking lost while more were gathered at altars and among priests, seeking blessings and offering prayers.

Adora was beginning to wonder if the revered mother would even see them with so many others in need. She overheard one of the templars issuing orders to his men and noticed that he seemed to have a spare moment. If anyone would know, it would be him.

“Pardon me, ser knight.” She said, making a beeline for the armored man.

He looked down at her with tired, yet kind brown eyes. “Yes, my lady? Who might you be?”

She smiled politely. “My name is Adoracia Cousland.” It might be risky to give her name, but having the clout of a noble was likely to give them more of an edge; it was worth the risk. “May I ask your name as well?”

The knight inclined his head respectfully. “Lady Cousland. I am Ser Bryant. Commander of Lothering’s remaining knights.” He made a point of looking at the crest on her armor and smiled reassuringly. “I did not think you looked like the other refugees. You have come from Ostagar?”

“Indeed. My companions and I were hoping we might speak with the revered mother about a sensitive subject.” She said, motioning to Alistair and Leliana, who remained a short distance away.

Ser Bryant followed her gaze. “Your companions? I recognize Sister Leliana. She is leaving then.”

Adora nodded. “Yes, she offered to join us. I imagine there is an evacuation planned for those who remain?”

The look of frustration that passed through the templar’s eyes was answer enough. “If only that were the case. The arl took his army north with Teyrn Loghain. We are defenseless and I don’t have enough men to organize a full evacuation. We will try to take who we can, however… I am afraid we’re on our own.”

“ _What_?” Adora was aghast; she lowered her voice. “How could Arl Bryland do such a thing? These are his people! He would leave them to the darkspawn and save himself?”

Shaking his head, Ser Bryant added, “It was not by choice. Teyrn Loghain is taking everything he can to rebuild the army lost at Ostagar. The arl had no choice.”

Realizing she was clenching her fists stiffly at her sides, Adora forced herself to relax her pose and expression. “Teyrn Loghain. I see.”

Apparently she was easy enough for the knight to read. “You will find no sympathy for the teyrn here. I don’t believe the Grey Wardens would be as careless or malicious as the teyrn claims. Forcing the arl’s army to leave has only furthered my suspicions.”

“As witness to his treachery, I am not surprised that he is involved in this chaos.” She sighed and shook her head. “Ser Bryant, I am so sorry that you have been left with this task.”

He smiled and she felt secure in her choice to speak truly. “That is kind of you, my lady. I only wish I could do more. Lothering deserved better.” He looked over her shoulder. “Your other companion… is he one of Redcliffe’s knights?”

Adora looked back and saw he meant Alistair. “No… why? Have the knights of Redcliffe passed through?”

_I thought Duncan said Arl Eamon wouldn’t be sending his men until later._

“They’ve been everywhere, I here. One of them should still be in town. Ser Donall was looking through the Chantry’s library in search of information on Andraste’s remains.”

“The Urn of Sacred Ashes?” She asked, shocked. “Maker, why would they be looking into such a thing?”

“Arl Eamon has fallen ill.” He shook his head sadly. “He must be very ill if their only option is to chase after miracles.”

“Maker’s breath…” She whispered. “This is terrible news.”

“It gets worse, I’m afraid.”

She shot him a questioning look. “How so?”

Everything since Howe’s betrayal has been terrible. The only good thing so far has been the survival of her and most of her companions. She wasn’t sure if that was really a good thing or not, since they may not survive for much longer.

“Teyrn Loghain is set to declare himself king.” Ser Bryant mumbled quietly to avoid being overheard. “Disaster piled upon disaster.”

Adora’s head shot up. “Is the Bannorn blind?! Can they not see what he has _done_?”

The knight shrugged, although he seemed sympathetic to her outcry. “I imagine a Landsmeet will be called before this is over. The teyrn has no legitimate claim to the throne. He may be a hero and his daughter may be queen, but he is a commoner and the king’s corpse is barely cold. If Arl Eamon were well…” He sighed and shook his head in agitation. “I do not care who takes the throne. Only fools fight over who owns a cottage as it burns down around them.”

She couldn’t agree more. Things _were_ getting worse. She was beginning to think it was no coincidence that so many terrible things were happening at once. They must be connected, somehow. Never before would she have believed the teyrn capable of such monstrous acts and manipulation… yet the way things stood said otherwise.

“Ser Bryant, you have been a font of information.” She said quietly. “I thank you.”

“You are quite welcome, my lady. Although I know you meant to simply ask about the revered mother.” He sounded so much more tired. “You may find her in her study, preparing what she will take with us when we evacuate. I hope you find what you need. Maker watch over you.”

Adora nodded. “You as well.” She turned to rejoin Leliana and Alistair before pausing and addressing the templar once more. “Ser Bryant? I am ashamed to ask this of you, but is there any more aid you can provide my companions and I? We are in a sorry state and our mission is dire.”

The knight’s brown eyes sharpened perceptively. “I see.” He looked over his shoulder to a corner of the Chantry. “I cannot openly help you, I fear, but here… take this key.” He fished around in his satchel and procured a small copper key. “It opens the large cabinet on the far wall. There is more there than we can carry when we evacuate, so take what you need.”

Taking the key, Adora graciously bowed her head. “Maker bless you, Ser Bryant. You have done Ferelden a service.”

He nodded curtly. “I believe you. Safe travels, Lady Cousland. I pray you succeed in your mission.”

 _So do I._ She wasn’t sure whose voice it was – hers or her brother’s ghost – but she felt it in her heart. If they didn’t succeed, the world was in terrible danger. The teyrn could not know what he was allowing to happen. In his lust for power, he may have doomed them all.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I didn't expect this to take so long. I just moved, so I was busy all last month with that.  
> I'm not making any promises on update times other than saying I will be continuing at my own pace.


	32. Idle Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew does some work around Lothering and Adora reflects on her role within the Wardens.

\--------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 13th

\--------------------------

Considering how things could have gone, the trip to the Chantry was a success in more ways than one. Not only did Adora manage to secure supplies, but she and Leliana were able to convince the revered mother to release the qunari into their custody. While they were negotiating, Alistair spoke with the knight from Redcliffe, a man he knew from years before. Ser Donall was able to confirm the rumor she’d heard from Ser Bryant – Arl Eamon was gravely ill and under mysterious circumstance.

While the news was terrible, it seemed to have a strong effect on Alistair. When they left the Chantry behind, he appeared especially worried.

“You knew Ser Donall personally?” Leliana asked gently, bringing up a string of questions that Adora was resisting diving into. “Do you know the arl as well?”

Adora listened silently, holding the key to the qunari’s cage curled in her hand. She’d met the arl once before herself, but that was only because of her parents. He was a hero, like her parents. He’d fought the Orlesians and helped to free their homeland, just like so many others. When she’d met him, he’d been very kind to the shy, young girl. His wife had been… less kind, if she recalled. They hadn’t had a son, then. She wondered if Isolde was kinder now.

“Arl Eamon raised me,” Alistair admitted quietly, snapping Adora to attention. “If he’s really that ill… no, I don’t want to think about it.”

 _A little more background on the mysterious Warden._ She’d have to remember it for later. Right now, they had other more immediate issues to address.

They had the key to release the qunari, they had a list of quests to fulfill in order to raise some coin, and... there was a child crying in front of the bridge. It was almost like an afterthought, but his distress was so palpable she couldn’t help but notice.

For one horrible moment, he looked just like Oren.

Not the crumpled, bloodied body she’d found not so long ago, but the sweet, adventurous little boy that she was trying so desperately to remember.

Before she could help herself, she was already rushing to his side. She heard Leliana say something, but it didn’t register. She needed to make sure he was alright.

She checked him over for wounds and found none, but he stopped crying when she touched his hair. It was lighter than Oren’s and a little longer. His skin was a little darker, too, from spending days out in the fields. His eyes, though; they were the same. Big, gray, and still brimming with tears.

“Can you help me?” The boy asked quietly, voice broken and high and so sad.

Adora was trying not to cry herself. She wiped at the boy’s tears and smiled. “I can try.”

 

* * *

 

 

Leliana had recommended sending the boy to the Chantry when he’d told them about his missing parents. While Adora hadn’t wanted to just send the boy off, she knew they still had work to do and they couldn’t take the time to watch him. She’d told Leliana and Alistair to rejoin the others and she’d taken the boy – _Philip, his name is Philip_ – to the Chantry.

On her way back, she stopped by the Chanter’s board and saw that the bandit problem remained. Not the ones on the highway, but on the outskirts of Lothering. While she was loath to go into battle, she knew that they had to do something.

When she finally made it back to the others, Nereus had joined them. And he wasn’t alone.

“This is Bethany,” the former Circle mage explained briefly. “While we’re in Lothering, she’ll be accompanying us.”

“Just while we’re in Lothering?” Alistair asked curiously, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “How exactly do you know each other?”

Adora was curious herself. Bethany was a very striking young woman. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but she couldn’t quite place it.

“Family.” Nereus said curtly. “Yes, I do have that. Now, shall we get to work? Something about giant spiders and bandits, if I recall.”

The world was certainly a smaller place than she could have imagined. While it made sense that Nereus would have family in Ferelden, she just hadn’t expected something like that to come up. She was instantly jealous and it sickened her to feel that way.

Jealous not because there was someone else he could dote on – his attention had reminded her so much of her brother – but because _he_ was able to find someone he cared about in all of the chaos. He deserved it, of course. Anyone would. Family was so important… yet she had lost hers.

 _I had my entire life with them._ As if seventeen years were so long. _He was locked in a tower for most of his._

Nereus smiled at her. “I’m glad you’re all right, Lady Adora.”

She felt like such a spoiled brat. _He deserves something good,_ she reminded herself, smiling at him before he turned to lead the way. At least their party was beginning to even out.

 

* * *

 

 

The qunari called himself Sten. It was a strange name, Adora decided. Yet it suited the creature, somehow. It was blunt, harsh, and foreign; appropriate. She knew little of the giants from the north, save what she'd heard from her parents. They were invaders that sought to conquer and convert the world to their religion; yet Sten didn’t seem interested in conquering or converting. He just needed a blade and a direction, which Nereus and Leif happily provided.

While Nereus had outfitted himself and Leif with some cloaks to obscure their Grey Warden armor, he also took it upon himself to purchase a massive two handed blade for the giant.

“We’re a bit low on funds, so you’ll have to earn yourself some armor,” the mage said congenially. “If you can find some in your size.”

Sten frowned – or was that just his face? – and hefted the sword easily. “It will do.”

They headed out to the fields on the other side of town. The bandits had set up shop between Lothering and the entrance to the highway, as well as key spots along the river. There were also rumors of giant spiders nearby.

“Leif helped me clear out a nest at the Circle, actually.” Nereus mentioned, leading them south towards a cluster of low hills. There was a fenced field to their right full of overgrown weeds.

“There were giant spiders in the Circle of Magi?” Bethany asked, incredulous. “Doesn’t that seem a bit dangerous?”

Adora had to agree. The Circle was in the middle of a lake. How would spiders even get there?

“They were underground. There must have been some old tunnels that led out of the hold.” Nereus said, pondering aloud. “Perhaps they even led to the Deep Roads at one point.”

“Coulda been that.” Leif admitted. “That mage tower sure runs deep for bein’ in a lake.”

A relatively friendly dialogue was beginning to form just as Sten shouted “ _Teth a!_ ” and thundered past them, blade held high.

Adora watched, bewildered, as everyone drew their weapons and both Nereus and Bethany pulled up shimmering barriers around their group.

 _She’s a mage?_ She carried no staff – apparently Nereus had lost his, as he was also bereft of the iconic mage weapon.

Her wonder would have to wait for another time, however. Now she could see the men coming out of hiding in the tall grass. Arrows hit the barrier and dropped to the ground, but men with swords would make it through soon enough.

Taking her Dalish bow in hand, she took up position with the mages and hoped that the barrier didn’t work both ways.

* * *

 

 

The fight was surprisingly easy, but Adora was betting that had to do more with their numbers than their skill.

While she remained in place with the three mages, there were six fighters up front and personal with the bandits. Alistair and Sten seemed to draw most of the attention from the enemy, but the hounds did their fair share of harassing. Leliana was absurdly proficient with her sword and dagger, moving through the tall grass like a dancer as she harried her foes with sharp slashes. Leif was quick and low to the ground, striking with unpredictable jabs.

With the occasional blast of magic – Nereus sure was fond of _literally_ crushing his enemies – the small group of bandits was dealt with in mere minutes.

Adora wasn’t even out of breath. Not that she should be; she wasn’t in the thick of battle like the others. She’d barely been able to strike for fear of accidentally hitting one of her teammates. She’d have to work on that. In fact, it wasn’t a bad idea to consider a little bit of battle strategy before they went into a fight. There was too much risk for friendly fire with the way they were now. Everyone had their own style of fighting and none of it seemed to match up to anyone else’s. Someone was going to end up seriously injured if they weren’t careful.

 _I’ll have to observe everyone more carefully._ She decided, watching as Leif, Nereus, Leliana, and Sten combed through the bodies in search of valuables.

While she originally found the very idea of the act abhorrent, she could see the logic behind it. First of all, they were _bandits_ preying on the helpless. While they may be unable to return the valuables stolen, they had at least dealt with the problem. Besides, they needed the coin if they were going to move forward with ending the Blight.

If she was being honest with herself, she still hadn’t wrapped her head around being a Warden. It still didn’t feel real. Yet there was something almost tangible about it since she’d gone through the Joining. There was a sense in her mind… she couldn’t quite describe. All she knew was it _felt_ like the sound of insects; a constant low drone just out of earshot and not quite there. She felt it most strongly around the other Wardens.

She’d mentioned it to Leif on the road to Lothering and he’d admitted to feeling it as well. They were both at a loss as to what it was, however. Now that they’d rejoined company with Alistair, they could ask.

Although now wasn’t quite the time.

“How ghoulish.” Bethany said quietly as they walked past the corpses. She looked more uncomfortable than Adora felt.

She looked at the other girl and realized they were probably about the same age. It wouldn’t shock her if this was Bethany’s first battle.

“I agree.” She found herself saying in an attempt to strike up conversation. “Although you can’t say they didn’t have it coming.”

Bethany looked at her with big, dark eyes. She was taller than Adora by quite a few inches and her frame was willowy. The mage girl wore a length of light chainmail over a simple white tunic and leggings.

“They _were_ bandits.” She said with utter disgust in her soft voice. “They deserved worse.”

Her words were unexpectedly harsh for someone who looked so kind. Adora surmised there must be quite the past buried beneath her words.

“You’re probably right.” She didn’t know what else to say.

They were just starting to round the hills and the river was in sight. There was also a telltale cluster of thick white webbing between the trees and shrubbery. Once they were on the other side of the hills, they could see a path that lead to a small cave in the hilly landscape, right beneath Lothering. The webs were lengthier and spread out along the path, leading into the darkness of the cave. The group was careful to maneuver around the sticky stuff, although there was the occasional curse from someone who couldn’t entirely avoid the webs.

Adora had never seen a living giant spider. Oh, she’d seen the corpses in the elven ruins and while they’d certainly been terrifying, they hadn’t been _alive._ Before that, she hadn’t truly believed they’d existed.  Nan had told her and Roland stories when they’d first started taking the tunnel down to the cove, but she’d never really believed her. Even Fergus had told her tales of encountering them out on his travels, but of course she couldn’t trust her brother to tell her the truth.

 _Who can you trust if you can’t trust your big brother?_ She could hear him whispering even now as they halted at the edge of the cave.

“I don’t know about you, but I think entering the dark, scary cave is a bad idea.” Alistair said dryly, eying the webs with distaste.

“Is our resident templar scared of strange holes?” Morrigan baited, smiling at the look of discomfort that came over the blonde’s face.

“When they’re filled with poisonous spiders, _yes_ , yes he is.” He countered defensively, looking away from the witch.

“Venomous, actually.” Nereus said, twisting his fingers in the air as a small flame formed in his hand. “Poison damages from _your_ touch, whereas venom must be injected. Say, via the massive fangs our hairy, eight-legged friends possess.”

Alistair gasped dramatically and dropped his voice to a loud whisper. “Nereus, you shouldn’t talk about _Morrigan_ like that!”

This elicited a chuckle from not only Nereus, but Morrigan herself. Which prompted a slow head turn from Alistair.

“Oh, Alistair, how _did_ you know?” Morrigan said coyly. “I didn’t think you that clever, to be honest.”

Adora had a horrible, horrible feeling in her gut all of a sudden. It wasn’t that she distrusted Morrigan, exactly. The witch _had_ helped them. Sure, her words had quite the bite, especially when directed at Alistair, but she wasn’t a bad person… was she?

“I don’t like where this is going.” Alistair said with a tone of creeping dread.

“The witch is up to something.” Sten agreed, reaching for his sword.

“Let us not forget, qunari, that the witch argued for your release.” Morrigan said pointedly. “Do not make me regret my decision.”

“ _Bas saarebas._ ” He spat, taking a step back; his hand remained on his blade.

Nereus, who had been formerly amused, now had a dark gleam in his normally bright eyes. “Morrigan. If there is something you have to tell us, I suggest you do it now.”

Morrigan rolled her eyes. “As if I have a reason to answer to you. You know nothing. A trained mage like you could not understand.”

Adora was worried now. While she was aware of the splintered beliefs in their group, she hadn’t thought they’d fall apart so quickly and over something so trivial. Besides, they were arguing – none too quietly – right outside a cave potentially filled with _giant venomous spiders_.

Before anyone could say anything else, a horrible, high hissing sound assaulted their ears. They all turned from each other to the cave and saw the large, bloated bodies of the spiders scuttling out of the shadows.

Backpedaling immediately, Adora watched as the others scrambled to arrange themselves for the attack. Sten was the quickest and most ready to respond. His deep voice bellowed aggressively, drawing the attention of the spiders to him. Alistair and Leliana were next to recover, both of them rallying to the forefront of the battle, barely missing a swing of Sten’s massive sword. She’d already lost track of Leif, but she could see both Lady and Lucky charging at the last of the emerging spiders and she prayed that they were careful.

Within moments Bethany and Nereus were beside her, each of them moving and twisting their hands as they worked their magic, calling forth ice and unseen force to rain down on their foes. Morrigan, too, was already at work, although Adora didn’t understand the swamp witch’s spells. She saw hazy shapes and patterns that buzzed through the air and the sight frightened her, for she didn’t know what effect they had.

She moved a little further behind the mages, never drawing her bow. Instead, she watched and tried to see where the battle was going.

Sten’s way of fighting almost reminded her of Maiara; except the qunari somehow maintained more order and power from his blade than the elf. Yet he seemed less at home with fighting beside others and reacted almost as if he was expecting something else from their ragtag team. His frustration was clear to see as his carefully measured movements began to stutter in reaction to the unpredictable actions of those around him.

Alistair’s training must have been very formal, for his way of fighting reminded her most of the knights she’d observed around Highever. While the others seemed to have trouble with the spiders in regards to the webbing they spat, Alistair was prepared with his shield, angling it so the web caught on the wood and not around his legs.

Leliana was graceful and practiced, with educated attacks that spoke of knowledge beyond her time as a Chantry sister. She was quick to injure and belabor the monstrous arachnids before moving on to another target, leaving the former to be taken out by another. She seemed the most aware of the others around her.

At last, she spotted Leif. He was following Leliana’s trail of attacks and dealing out more critical hits on their foes. More than once she saw him abandon an attack to move out of the way of Alistair or Sten, however. He clearly wasn’t used to fighting beside the powerhouse warriors.

As far as she could tell, Bethany’s spells seemed more focus on their companions than the spiders. She wasn’t sure exactly what the spells did, but wherever the light of her magic touched, Adora could see an improvement in the actions of the receiver. Something unseen shielded Sten, while Leif’s attack speed received a boost and Leliana’s blows seemed to deal more damage.

Nereus was slinging spell after spell at the spiders. There was the usual explosion, causing a blast of colorful guts to drench not only Lady, but Alistair as well. The blond let out a howl of disgust and stumbled away from the deceased spider. The mage laughed, freezing another spider entirely, only for it to be shattered by a heavy blow from Sten.

Just like that, it was over. The spiders were all dead; those that were still whole now resembled the corpses that Adora had first observed in the Brecilian forest with their spindly legs curled around their punctured abdomens.

Lady came running up to Adora, panting happily and looking utterly disgusting while covered in spider guts. Before she could jump on her, Adora held her palm thrust out as a signal for the hound to heel. Obedient as ever, Lady stopped and sat back on her haunches with an expectant look in her eyes.

Adora sighed. “Look at you. My poor girl needs a bath, doesn’t she?”

Lady barked happily and wagged her stumpy tail.

Looking to her left, Adora noted that the river was conveniently located for just such a solution. “Lady, go take a bath.” She pointed and the hound followed, running jubilantly towards the riverbank and jumping into the water.

“Ugh.” A sound of revulsion to her right alerted her of Morrigan’s opinion. “Now our company will smell like wet dog. Tis most unfortunate.”

Adora rolled her eyes at the mage. “Morrigan, might I have a word?”

The witch eyed her suspiciously and hovered out of reach. “Why?”

“Please?” She tried sounding humble, but she wasn’t sure if it would help.

For a moment, she wasn’t sure if Morrigan would humor her. Then she was walking away from the spidery carnage with the dark haired witch at her side.

 

* * *

 

 

When they were a sufficient distance away from the others – they were looking for the venom glands to sell and Alistair was joining Lady in the river – Adora stopped by a tree on a hill overlooking the fields.

“You wished to speak with me?” Morrigan asked apprehensively.

Adora nodded. “Yes. About several things. I thought you might be more candid without an audience.”

For this she received a blank, golden eyed stare. She cleared her throat and started. “First, I would like to thank you.”

Morrigan’s distrustful gaze intensified. “ _Why?_ ”

“For staying with us. I imagine you may not be keen on traveling with strangers.” She said, a little annoyed with the mage’s absurd degree of mistrust. “You could have gone wherever you wished once you left the Wilds. No one has forced you to stay… have they?”

The brunette rolled her eyes and scoffed. “As if they could.”

She nodded. “I didn’t think so.” She paused and watched as Morrigan watched her in return. “Also, I don’t know what you’re hiding, but you shouldn’t tease the others about it. I believe Alistair can be reasoned with-” another scoffing noise from Morrigan “-however I worry about Sten. I do not know much about the Qunari, but I do know this: they keep their mages in chains.”

This seemed to earn her full attention. “I confess I have heard little more than rumors so far south.”

Adora was surprised she’d heard of them at all, living so deep in the Wilds. “My parents spent time in Antiva before I was born. My mother especially loved the capital. She…” why did her eyes burn? She took a deep breath. “Anyway. They learned more about the Qunari while they were there. They didn’t tell me everything, but they did tell me about how they treated their mages.”

When she was a child, she’d been friends with an elven serving girl from the kitchen. She’d been such a pretty girl with huge green eyes and curly blonde hair. One day, some local boys were teasing her about her hair and she'd set _their_ hair on fire. Adora had cried when El was taken by the templars. Her parents had been sympathetic, but ultimately told her it was for her own good. Her friend would be safe there and no one would hurt her.

Later she’d learned that Circles were not at all like her parents said. She’d once overheard a man in town talking about the abuses of the Circle; when questioned, he’d been dodgy about where his knowledge came from. It was days later that she’d learned he was an escaped mage on the run.

When she’d told her parents about what she’d heard, they'd told her how it could be so much worse. They'd told her about what the Qunari, the giant horned creatures from the far north, did to _their_ mages.

“They chain them and keep them on leashes,” she told Morrigan what they’d told her years ago. “The chains aren’t enough. They sew their mouths shut; they believe mages are always tempted by demons and that even hearing them speak can allow them to be possessed.”

She watched as the information sank in and Morrigan scowled. “Tis more despicable than I would have thought. Impressive.”

Adora could tell she didn’t mean the last part. She hoped. “That’s where Sten comes from. I think we should consider ourselves lucky that he hasn’t tried to hurt any of you.” She stepped around Morrigan and looked back to where they’d left their companions. They were on their way to their spot on the hill now. “I know this probably isn’t what you want or where you want to be. But please, if you’re going to stay with us, be careful. Our group is… unbalanced in many ways. We need to work together.”

When she looked back, Morrigan was watching her with an expression she couldn’t decipher.

“As you wish.” She said neutrally. “I will attempt to curb my tongue. I can promise no more.”

Adora forced a smile. “Thank you, Morrigan.”

She hoped that was a step in the right direction.

* * *

 

 

Clearing the bandits out from around Lothering took the rest of the day. The ones near the river had been the worst; they’d had mabari with them and the dogs were hardier than the men. It pained Adora to see the hounds taken down, but there was no other choice. Mabari were fiercely loyal to their masters, no matter their flaws.

“Hey,” Nereus said, examining the corpse of one of the bandits. “This one has some pretty quality gear. It’s in good condition, too.”

“And?” Leif asked irritably. “I ain’t luggin’ that crap around just for you to sell.”

The mage snorted. “Of course not. I was thinking about _him_.” He jabbed a finger towards Sten, who stood just outside of their group. “Hey, big guy! Come here!”

The qunari stiffly turned his broad face towards them, glowering.

“What’s his problem?” Nereus grumbled, dusting his armor off as he rose.

“I don’t think he likes you callin’ him that.” Leif said, smiling a little. “His name is Sten. Might wanna use it.”

“Whatever.” He said lowly, before sighing and shouting again. “ _Sten_. Get over here. I think this armor is big enough for you.”

“Sword looks better, too.” The dwarf added, going back to picking the lock on one of the chests they’d picked up from the bandit camp.

“Does it?” Nereus asked, leaning down to look at the massive blade. “I can never tell.”

“Try spendin’ some time in the carta. You’ll learn real quick what’s valuable.”

Sten was towering over the both of them within moments.

“About time.” Nereus said, then motioned towards the body. “Think that’ll fit your giant frame?”

The giant in question didn’t seem particularly thrilled about the job of taking armor from the dead.

“It will suffice.” His rumbling voice said from behind gritted teeth.

After some time, they had a fully armed and armored qunari and Nereus had plans to sell a sword.

* * *

 

 

It was on the way back that they’d come across a pack of wolves. Naturally the beasts attacked, but once they were slain the body they’d been ravaging came to light.

The wolves had torn into her abdomen, but it was clear from the other wounds that she’d been killed by bandits. The wolves’ focus had been on the softer flesh of her torso, arms, and legs. Her face had few scratches and was frozen in a look of sheer terror, with gray eyes wide open and staring into nothing. There was a plain band of metal around one finger, with just the smallest flecks of blood tainting its shining surface.

Unlike the others, Adora hadn’t quite taken to looting. The ring didn’t look expensive, so it wasn’t worth taking. All she could think was that the dead woman might have family in town that were looking for her. If they recognized the ring, they’d know she was gone. It might give them a reason to leave if they were staying behind to wait for her.

She’d taken the ring and they’d moved on.

 

When they were finally heading back into Lothering proper, they were approached by a large group of men. It was clear that they weren’t bandits, yet they were armed with makeshift weapons. They were either refugees or villagers; either way, it wasn’t good.

“We know there are Wardens among you.” One of the men said, stepping forward out of the group. “Now, I don’t know if the Wardens killed the king. Maker help me, I don’t care. But turning you in could feed a lot of hungry bellies.”

Bethany stepped forward then, planting her feet and glaring at the men. “Edmund, you fool! The Blight will destroy us all if there are no Wardens to fight it!”

The man she addressed flinched and then shook his head. “Ain’t no Blight. It’s just a raid! We’ve had those in the past and we've made it through! Beth, you’re a good girl. Go home to your mum now.”

The young mage was not deterred. “Absolutely not. You are wrong and you will only get yourselves hurt or worse. The bandits that have been raiding for weeks? All dead. Thanks to the _Wardens_.” Her words seemed to have an effect on some of the men as they exchanged shocked looks. “You’re farmers and craftsmen, not soldiers. Don’t throw your lives away.”

There was silence between the two groups for a moment. Eventually, one of the older men spoke up. “Maybe she’s right, Ed. We’re not cut out for this.”

Edmund frowned, looking between Bethany and the men he’d assembled. “Fine. But hear me: we catch one of you Wardens alone, we’ll take our chances. Leave town quick if you know what’s good for you.”

The mob dispersed along the crowded streets of the riverside village, leaving the Wardens and their company behind.

Bethany let out the breath she’d been holding and turned with a smile to face them. “Well then. I think we should stick together just to be safe.”

Nereus shrugged. “If they try something, they’ll regret it. You warned them.”

His cousin sighed and shook her head. “I know, but… please don’t hurt them. They’re just scared. We all are.”

“I’m sorry, but if it’s them or us, I know who I’m choosing.” Nereus said evenly, rearranging the cloak he wore and bringing the hood up. “I don’t want trouble. However, I believe our cause is too important to endanger for the sake of a few lives.”

Adora winced at the blandness of his tone. She was sure he didn’t mean to sound so callous. He was right, of course, but surely he could understand Bethany’s feelings. Lothering is her home and the townsfolk are her neighbors; she can’t just switch to attacking them after knowing them for years.

“I think what Nereus is trying to say,” she inserted herself into the silence and met Bethany’s eyes with her own. “Is that in order to end the Blight and save as many people as possible, we may have to make hard decisions. They _are_ difficult choices to make. We don’t want to hurt anyone. However, more lives will be saved by us surviving to challenge the archdemon.”

Bethany nodded and turned her brown eyes down to the ground. “I know. It’s just…”

Nereus sighed, turning to put a hand on the younger mage’s shoulder. “We’ll all do our best. I don’t think we should stay in town for long, but I don’t think we can afford to press on this late. We’ll set up camp at one of the old bandit installations. Hopefully that’ll keep us out of sight and out of mind of the townsfolk.”

“No, that’s ridiculous.” Bethany said in response. “You’ll stay at our place. There’s enough room for everyone if you pack in tight, although there are only two spare beds…”

“You don’t have to worry about me.” Leliana said with a smile. “I can stay at the Chantry for the night. One less to worry about.”

Adora liked the idea of sleeping in a bed for the night, even if she wasn’t sure she’d be getting one. “I think that’s a lovely offer, Bethany.” She looked to the others and could see various emotions passing through their tired eyes. “Any objections?”

Sten was frowning; he always seemed to be frowning. “I do not believe I would be welcome in another home. I will stay outside.”

“I will, as well.” Morrigan said, to Adora’s surprise. “Tis fine weather, is it not? I would prefer my rest to be under the stars.”

Bethany inclined her head to the witch in acknowledgement. “The offer stands, if you change your mind. Still, that should be room enough for everyone.” She pointed to one of the homes on the edge of town. “If you’ve no other business in town, I think I’ll go warn my mother; you’re all free to accompany me.”

“Then I will take my leave for the evening,” Leliana said, bowing politely. “I shall see you all in the morning.”

“Ah, actually…” Adora spoke up, looking at the other redhead. “Might I join you? I need to go by the Chantry myself.”

The lay sister’s blue eyes softened and she nodded. “Of course. Although I don’t believe it would be safe for you to return alone, even without wearing Warden armor.”

“I’ll go, too.” Alistair said quickly. “That should be fine, right?”

Leliana smiled. “Of course. Just the three of us again, right?”

Lady barked, stepping up beside Adora and focusing her big brown eyes on Leliana.

The blue eyed woman laughed and leaned down to scratch the dog’s ears. “Oh, my mistake! The _four_ of us, then. Come, let’s go. I think I recall a recipe for some treats.”

“Don’t take too long,” Leif said quietly. “Those locals might be waitin' for a change like this.”

Adora nodded succinctly. “Don’t worry. We’ll be back soon.”

* * *

 

As night was falling, the business in town began to dwindle. There were still people out and about, but many that they’d seen before had gone inside or returned to the refugee camps. There was certainly a lot of activity around the tavern, but that was to be expected at any such establishment.

Before going into the Chantry courtyard, Adora stopped by the Chanter’s board. She tore down the request for dealing with the bandits and saw that two more had gone up. She could hear Leliana telling the chanter of their accomplishment in defeating the bandits, but she was focused instead on reading the new requests. Apparently some farmers had been attacked by blight maddened bears near the river and there was a missing woman.

 _Goodwife Sarha_ … A description followed and included was the name of her son.

Adora’s hand slowly reached for the ring she’d found on the dead woman from earlier and she felt dread settling into her gut.

 _That poor boy._ Her eyes teared up and she ripped the request off of the board.

The Chanter watched her approach and held out a hand. “‘Let him take notice and shine upon thee, for thou has done His work on this day.’”

“We found the body of Sarha,” she said softly, holding up the ring. “I thought I might find family to deliver this to. I would like to see her son. I brought him to the Chantry earlier today.”

“‘A learned child is a blessing upon his parents and unto the Maker.’”

“That sounds like a… yes?” Alistair offered hesitantly.

Adora held her hand out and the chanter dropped a small pouch of coins into it, then bowed his head gratefully.

Pocketing the coins, she looked at the small ring in her hand and saw there was still blood on it. Scratching at it and wiping it on her pants, she squared her shoulders and headed into the Chantry courtyard.

* * *

 

The Chantry was packed full of refugees, so they left Lady outside to wait for them. Every corner and bench was occupied and while there had been a decent amount of walking room before, it was a lot more cramped in the evening. Conversation was sparse, but kept a steady rumble of noise over the sound of prayers and sobbing.

Adora looked around bleakly and realized she wouldn’t be able to find little Phillip in all of the chaos. Not without asking for help, of course. She looked at Leliana and Alistair who looked just as concerned as her.

“Maybe we should split up? Meet at the altar in the back?” Leliana suggested, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the din.

Adora nodded and the three of them separated to comb through the sea of tired refugees.

She asked every sister she found if they knew the boy that she’d brought in and after the sixth one, she was directed to the back of the building. They brought all of the orphaned children to stay together in one of the small libraries so they could keep an eye on them. When she was halfway there, she ran into Alistair.

“Did you find him?” He asked, looking down at her with empathy.

She shook her head. “Not exactly. They said that he should be in the back room with the other children. I figure I’ll check there.”

The two of them headed towards the back room, shuffling past the people who’d sought shelter within the small house of worship. Eventually they made it to a little library where several sisters were tending to a disheartening amount of children.

 _There are so many._ Adora could feel tears prickling at her eyes.

One of the sisters noticed the two of them standing and approached with wary eyes. “May we help you?”

Adora took a steadying breath and nodded. “Yes. I’m looking for a boy that I sent here earlier. His name is Philip. He’s maybe eight or nine, but he could just be small for his age. He has gray eyes and light blonde hair…” She was trying not to cry again and something in her voice must have registered with the sister, who had lost all hostility.

The older woman placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Just one moment.”

Before she could turn to fetch the boy, a high pitched voice rang out, “Hey, it’s you!”

Just the boy she was looking for; Philip jumped up from his spot on the floor and ran up to Adora, stopping just shy of tackling her.

“You’re back! Did you find my mum? Where is she?” He asked, his big eyes looking behind her and searching the extended building.

Crouching down to his level, Adora reached a hand out to cup his round cheek as she looked him in the eyes. “I did find her.” She tightly clutched the ring in her other hand as she tried to keep her emotions under control. “I’m so sorry, Philip. Your mommy had an accident. She can’t come see you right now.”

Even though she knew his mother had been dead long before she’d arrived, she still felt as if she’d failed him in some way. How could she tell him his mother was dead now? How could she explain that unless he left these nice ladies in the Chantry, he would probably be dead soon, too? She felt it in her heart that he was going to die, that Lothering wouldn’t evacuate in time. The darkspawn were so close… they’d never get far enough in time.

“Why not? What happened?” He asked, his little voice so desperate and disappointed. “She promised she’d be right behind me.”

She took one of his hands and placed the ring in it, curling his fingers around it. “She isn’t strong enough right now, pup. But she told me to give this to you. You know it?”

Looking at the ring, he nodded slowly. “She got it from my da.”

“That’s right. So she wants you to keep it safe. You can give it back when you see her again. Okay?” She smoothed his hair out of his face and patted his cheek. “Can you do that? You have to be brave and listen to the nice sisters until then.”

Phillip nodded assertively and shoved the ring into his pocket. “I can! I’m real brave. I can do it.”

“Good.” Adora forced a smile and kissed his forehead before standing. “Now, I think you’re going to have a story read to you.”

“I am?!” He said excitedly, turning to see the other children gathering around one of the sisters with a book in her lap. “Okay, bye! Thanks for your help, lady!”

She watched him sit next to one of the other boys as he gave the sister his full attention. The woman she’d spoken with before walked up a moment later, blocking her view.

“That was very kind of you.” She said softly. “I don’t think he can handle the truth right now, but at least he has something to remember her by.”

“I wish I could have helped more,” Adora whispered, looking down at her empty hands. “I… I know you’re not ready to leave yet. Please, go as soon as you can. The darkspawn will be here any day.”

The sister looked around cautiously before answering. “I know. I wish we could, but there are just too many… and not enough preparations have been done. We… we will do what we can. I thank you.”

Bowing her head graciously, she turned and rejoined the children and the other sisters, leaving Adora and Alistair at the door.

The two Wardens turned to find Leliana watching from the altar. The redhead gave them a knowing look and turned to go down another hall.

They were done there.

* * *

 

Adora had never felt useless before.

Not when she’d been at home and she’d had so much to look forward to. It had never bothered her that she wasn’t a warrior like the rest of her family. She liked being a proper lady and spending time reviewing poetry, history, and exchanging gossip with Oriana. The only experience she had with battle was reading about the battles of the past and the methods used to achieve victory. When it came to physical combat, she’d only started sparring recently with Roland after years of urging from her parents and brother.

Ever since that night… she’d felt like a failure. There were so many others that should have lived in her place. She’d been too slow and caught up in herself to save Oren and Oriana. She hadn’t been strong enough to talk Roland into joining or adamant enough to convince her parents… She hadn’t even been brave enough to retrieve her family’s sword and shield from the vault.

When they’d escaped onto the coast she’d felt absolutely no will to live. When they’d started moving again she only did so out of instinct rather than any real desire. Duncan had helped her see how selfish she was, yet still…

 _I’m still selfish._ All she could think about was how much she couldn’t stand where she was and what she was doing. Every time she thought about what was going on and what had happened, she wanted to break down and cry. She didn’t want to fight _monsters_. All she’d wanted was to take care of the castle while her brother lived _his_ dream of playing war and when he came home she could go right back to her poetry and tea socials.

While she knew it was difficult for other people, she couldn’t help but continue to feel sorry for herself even as she mourned for them.

_I’m nothing but a spoiled child. Even after all this… I’m weak._

She still didn’t know why Duncan had chosen her. All of the others he’d recruited made sense. Whatever the Wardens could possibly need her for, she couldn’t begin to fathom. She wasn’t the greatest fighter, nor was she a mage like Nereus or Morrigan, or a powerful warrior like Maiara or Alistair. Leif was good enough at picking locks and disarming traps. There was no real use for her among her companions; especially with all of the new additions. She was just… there.

 _Duncan wouldn’t have made me a Warden if he didn’t think I could do_ something _though._ At least, she hoped that was the case. Sure, maybe he’d been a little desperate to get recruits, but he wouldn’t have forced her parents to make that bargain for her if he hadn’t thought she would be a good choice for the Grey Wardens. Speaking of which…

Alistair hadn’t really said anything since they’d left the Chantry. They’d just been walking in silence, the both of them lost in their thoughts as they walked the lonely streets of Lothering. As they left the town itself, she became aware of just how bright the moons and stars were already. Night had just fallen and the sky was so full of distant shimmering starlight.

Looking away from the stars, she spared a glance up at the taller Warden. She could only guess at what must be going on in his mind. He had been a Grey Warden before any of them. He must have known many of the order who had perished in the fight at Ostagar. Not to mention he had been so close to Duncan.

Looking straight ahead, she pushed a few wild hairs behind her ear and said, “I’m sorry about Duncan.” She saw him look at her from the edge of her vision. Apparently he was paying attention. “I know that you were close to him. So… if you want to-”

“You don’t have to do that,” he said, although not harshly. He sounded so reserved to his silent mourning. She got the feeling no one had really said anything since it had happened. “You didn’t know him very well. It’s alright. You don’t have to do this for me.”

For a moment, she wasn’t sure about what to say in response to that. He was just so… accepting of the fact that people weren’t trying to comfort him. When she’d lost her family, she’d been so intent on everyone knowing how much she was suffering because of it. While she’d been selfish, Alistair was just sad and patient. He wasn’t asking for sympathy or anything. He was upset, yes, and sometimes he had an outburst – usually directed at Morrigan and her callous nature – but he wasn’t wallowing in it.

She found her gaze drawn to him and saw his golden eyes reflecting the moonlight. For some reason that made her sadder, looking at him. “I know what it’s like to lose someone precious to me,” she said, trying not to sound too much like a fool. “And I don’t want to compare my life to yours. It’s just that… I know that it hurts. And even though I feel like a spoiled brat for having wallowed so much… Duncan let me cry about it. It… it didn’t make it better, but it helped. And it was very kind of him.” She waved a hand through the air and looked away again. “Anyway, you don’t have to talk about it. Just know that if you want to, I’ll listen.”

He was quiet for a few minutes and she wondered if she’d said the wrong thing. Maybe she was still coming across as unbelievably selfish. _Maker, I hope not._ She really did want to offer him what comfort she could. After all, they were all in the same boat now. A boat filled with holes in a deep lake.

 _Besides, it’s the right thing to do_. She knew she couldn’t change who she was or what she wanted, but she could change how she reacted. She needed to do her best to be a Grey Warden. Her parents… they can’t have died for nothing.

She heard Alistair let out a soft sigh and she looked up again and caught his amber gaze. She looked away and saw they were drawing closer to the house Bethany had directed them to.

“I may take you up on that in the future, but tonight…” He trailed off as Lady barked cheerily and ran ahead to great Lucky, dozing on the porch beside another hound. “Well, I think we’re at the right place.”

The three hounds seemed to be making introductions. She wondered if the other mabari belonged to Bethany.

“Yes, it must be.” She said as the girl in question stepped out onto the porch.

Bethany smiled and waved at their approach. “I’m glad you made it back safe.”

“Yeah,” Adora returned the smile and looked down at the massive pile of dogs. “Aw, what a cutie. What’s his name?”

“Brutus.” The hound perked up at the sound of his name and gave a big doggie grin in response. “Yeah, we’re talking about you, you slobber monster.”

Brutus huffed happily and draped his massive head over Lucky’s leg.

“That’s a good name.” Adora said, smiling at the dogs. “Is he yours?”

The mage girl shook her head. “No, he’s my sister’s. Normally he’d be with her, but… she didn’t want to put him in danger.”

“Where is she?” Alistair asked, kneeling down to pet the huddled hounds and scratch their ears.

“I don’t know.” She said softly, looking off into the distance. “She and my brother went to Ostagar. They must be on their way back.”

“Ah…” She didn’t know what to say. Ostagar had taken many lives. There was no way she could destroy the other girl’s faith in her family. “I hope they come back soon.”

“They will.” Bethany said without hesitance. “I know it sounds crazy… you were there, weren’t you?”

She and Alistair both nodded. “Different vantage points, but yes. It was… chaos. Anything is possible.”

Bethany smiled sardonically. “I can tell you don’t believe that. It’s okay. I just… I know Carver is alive. If he is, Arte is, too.”

 “Arte? As in Artemis?” Adora blurted out. The name was too unique for her to forget.

Perking up immediately, Bethany took an excited step towards her. “You know her? Did you see my brother?”

“I wish I could tell you more.” Adora said with a sigh. “I only met them briefly. I… I was looking for _my_ brother, actually.”

 _Look how well that worked out._ She couldn’t get Fergus’s voice out of her head. He was the voice of her doubt. He’d always been better than her.

The disappointment in Bethany’s brown eyes hurt her. Still, her host offered her a seat on a wooden bench. The two girls sat together, looking out at the moonlit fields. Alistair was still playing with the dogs, but Adora figured he was probably listening.

“I guess we’re both missing family from Ostagar.” Bethany said quietly, breaking the silence.

Adora nodded slowly, willing herself to speak. “It’s just… he’s all I have left. If he’s still alive. Artemis said he was in the Wilds and if he was still there during the attack…”

She felt Bethany’s hand wrap around one of hers and she gripped it tightly.

“The Maker works in mysterious ways,” the brunette said gently, returning the squeeze. “We must have faith that our loved ones are strong enough to make it home to us.”

 _What home do we have to return to?_ She couldn’t answer that. Their home was invaded and defiled by one they’d called a friend. How could she ever explain that to Fergus?

 _Howe has a debt to pay._ He wasn’t the only one. _Loghain_. After what he did at Ostagar, Adora couldn’t help but have the wild thought that the two events were connected. What were the odds of two coups against both nobility and royalty occurring within the same month? If they _were_ connected… she owed it to her family to find out.

 _That can be my reason_. More than the Blight and more than just sticking beside her companions, she would bring justice to the lives lost and visit vengeance upon their enemies.

At least… maybe when she wasn’t so weak. A long road of trials lay just up the road. She would have to be ready.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wish I could go back to being so fast with these chapters. Unfortunately life has kept me busy. On top of that, I now have the misfortune of wanting to write another story on top of this one. So... if I slow down too much, I apologize.
> 
> Anyway, translation stuff. Thank the Maker for the Dragon Age Wiki!
> 
> Qunlat Translations:
> 
> Teth a: A call for attention, or warning.
> 
> Bas saarebas: a term for a non-Qunari mage; saarebas meaning “dangerous thing.”


	33. Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finishing errands in Lothering, the group comes up with a plan for the quest ahead.

\--------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 15th

\--------------------------

“Thank you so much! You don’t know just how many lives you’ve saved.”

Leif awkwardly shrugged off the praise. “It’s nothin’.”

The old human shook her head at his modesty, pressing a coin purse into his hands. “You’ve been here not more than three days and you’ve done more for us than others who have lived their whole lives in Lothering. Thank you, young man.”

He felt awful about accepting whatever meager coin the old lady was giving him, but he knew they’d need everything they could get. Smiling gratefully, he pocketed the money and moved on.

They’d spent a few days in Lothering now, dealing with every problem the terrified human populace could throw at them. At first he didn’t mind helping here and there, but there were some people that made it seem like they were just plain lazy. When he’d asked about why there seemed to be so many issues, he’d been told that normally the bann would have had men helping, but he’d already pulled every soldier and followed Loghain up north.

So with the people who were _supposed_ to be helping already gone, it seemed to fall to the Wardens to do all of the work. Shit, there was even an actual mercenary company in town and instead of them taking on jobs to help, even _they_ were foisting chores onto the Wardens. Still, there was at least good coin involved with most of it. They’d been given quite the wide variety of rewards for their service. Things ranged from food, armor, weapons, and more than a few sexual favors. Leif had personally declined, at the least. That wasn’t something he was worried about when there were darkspawn knocking on Lothering’s door.

Every day they went out to kill more of the blasted creatures. The main horde was still days away, likely preoccupied with destroying smaller settlements between Ostagar and Lothering. Or still dealing with stragglers from Ostagar. Still, that didn’t stop a few bands from creeping up to the village outskirts and attacking anyone they laid eyes upon.

Regardless of them trying to disguise themselves and lay low, word had spread among the villagers and refugees that there were Grey Wardens among them. When the first darkspawn group had appeared, there had been a massive panic; then the small company of Wardens and tagalongs had come running. They’d dealt with the darkspawn quickly and efficiently and after that, there were no more attempted attacks and threats on their lives. After that, they’d been hounded with every request for aid the settlement could offer.

Leif had just finished running a series of errands with Bethany, Adora, and Leliana. There were still a lot of people that genuinely needed help and regardless of the rewards, they wanted to help them. They’d been collecting herbs and with Bethany’s guidance they’d been able to make many healing poultices. Of course they’d need them for themselves – the battles with the darkspawn had proven that well enough – but there were those in town who could use them, too. They’d helped with a few other odd jobs, too.

There were a lot of sick people, some of them with the Blight. Beth and Leliana couldn’t help with that, but they could start digging graves. Adora and Leif helped when they could and Adora said prayers when they couldn’t. Leif was surprised, but the prayers and things she said really seemed to comfort people in the end. The humans and elves really seemed to have a thing for their Maker and Andraste. Leliana seemed to know the most, though. He’d have to ask her about it sometime.

They’d finished their tasks for the day, though. There was nothing more for them to do in the refugee camps and they’d passed out more poultices than they should have. They’d helped a few families scavenge from the old bandit locations to find their belongings and scrapped more than a few wagons together for people to pack up on their way out of town. It was surprisingly tough work that made a lot of his jobs back in the carta seem easy in comparison. Taking care of people was a lot harder than taking from them.

Leif could see the Hawke household up ahead. He was looking forward to resting for the night. They’d already decided that morning that tomorrow would be the day they left Lothering. They couldn’t wait any longer; the horde would be there in days.

* * *

 

 

The girls were washing up and Leif was left with Leandra in the kitchen. Nereus and Alistair would be out for some time, still doing whatever jobs they’d picked up or hunting for information. Sten and Morrigan remained behind every time, but they never came into the house. He figured the shifty witch was just keeping an eye on the giant, though. He’d said he’d fight for them, sure, but he’d also killed a whole family in cold blood. Leif was sure they’d made the right choice to bring him along – who couldn’t use a giant with a big ass sword in a battle? – but he couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy around him.

He felt awkward just sitting at the big wooden table while Leandra bustled around the kitchen fixing up another big meal for their group. The woman was one of the kindest gals he’d ever met; her and her daughter. She’d taken them in without a moment’s hesitation and offered them everything she had. She’d been feeding them every day and it was the best Leif had eaten since that night at the waystation on the way to Ostagar.

Every night they’d packed in (with the exclusion of Sten and Morrigan) and they sat at the table, on stools, and leaned against walls. They ate food, some of them even had drinks (Leif always stuck to water) and they just _talked_. It wasn’t always a happy conversation, but it was something. It felt … nice to just relax. It gave them all an opportunity to get to know each other just a little bit better than before.

Leif still didn’t trust Nereus entirely, but he felt some of his first impressions of the mage returning to the surface. The guy was likable, even if he was a bit of a twofaced asshole. His charm seemed less forced when he was in a room surrounded by mostly good folks.

He could already see Adora bonding with Bethany and Leliana. The three girls were practically inseparable at this point and it was nice to see so many pretty smiles.

Alistair was a pretty solid guy, too. That wasn’t a surprise, though. That had been his first impression of the senior Warden back at Ostagar. He was young like the rest of them, though, and the losses they suffered clearly weighed heavily on him. He didn’t brood about it though and was always quick to deflect serious lines of questioning with humor. He could tell that he’d be a great leader once they finally got going.

Watching Leandra as he reflected, he wondered if she and Bethany would go with them. They’d said they were waiting for the rest of their family to return from Ostagar, but Leif was pretty sure they had to know the truth by now; they were waiting on the dead. If they didn’t leave soon, they’d end up just like their missing family.

He huffed a sigh and sipped at his room temperature water. They were such good people; he didn’t want them to die.

“Something on your mind, Leif?” Leandra asked suddenly, placing a bowl of steaming stew on the table in front of him.

His stomach growled hungrily when the savory scent wrapped itself around his senses, but the worry in his mind pushed through first.

“Ah, yeah…” He said slowly, looking down into the dark depths of the stew, as if hoping the chunks of meat and veggies would spell some kind of answer. “It’s just… look, I know you’re waitin’ on your kids, but…” He sighed again and picked up the spoon sticking out of the stew. “It’s not my place to be sayin’ anything, I know.”

Leandra was quite for a moment and he worried that he may have offended her with his clumsy questioning. He looked up and saw she had a thoughtful look in her eyes. She sat beside him and stared at her hands, neatly folded on the table in front of her.

“I’m staying.” She said quietly. “I know they may not be coming back. Bethany is so sure, yet…” She shook her head. “I cannot doom her to this inevitable end. Nor can I convince her that her siblings are...”

He watched her silently and just listened. She obviously had a lot more to say than that.

Wiping at her eyes, Leandra looked back at Leif. “I will convince her to go with you. Nereus is our family and I know that he - that all of you - will protect her.”

As much as he’d hoped that both of them would leave with them – at least until they could get them somewhere safe – Leif was still shocked. He realized she was waiting for him to say something.

“Of course,” he said quickly. “Of course we will. It’s just… are you sure?”

Leandra nodded solemnly. “I am. I have thought about it since the day Nereus came to us. I knew I could never convince her to leave alone. This way, she won’t have to. At least one Hawke will survive.”

With that, she rose from the table and returned to fixing dinner for the rest of the household. Leif could hear the girls talking as they walked down the hall. Dipping the spoon into the hot stew, he decided it really wasn’t his place to say anything. Besides, dinner was delicious. He didn’t have time to talk.

 

* * *

 

 

Alistair and Nereus returned just after sundown, exhausted and covered in blood. Most of it wasn’t theirs, thankfully. Still, Bethany had to put her healing abilities to use to close up some of the more serious wounds.

“Another darkspawn attack.” Alistair explained, wincing as Leliana assisted Bethany with cleaning a nasty gash. “An ambush, actually. We knew they were there, but we didn’t know how _many_ until it was too late.”

“They set up quite the trap, actually.” Nereus added, carefully removing his armor. “A few of them made a show of chasing some refugees up towards the camps. While we concerned ourselves with them, the others came out of hiding and attacked the people we’d ‘saved.’”

“We had to make a choice between finishing the darkspawn we’d already engaged or breaking off to assist the refugees.” Alistair was scowling darkly at the mage now, ignoring the one that was healing his wounds. “Take a guess at what happened.”

Nereus rolled his eyes. “Oh, get off your high horse. Those people were already dead. If we hadn’t dealt with the first pack they would have joined with the others and killed us, too. Those people were used as bait and they drew the darkspawn right into the camp. If they’d had the courage to turn and fight then more lives could have been saved.”

“Fight with _what_ exactly? They were unarmed, tired, and terrified! _You_ let them die!”

“You’re a fool if you think it was that simple.” The mage countered, waving off support. He stalked up to where Alistair was seated and glared down at him. “Those darkspawn were being led by something. It used magic. Do you think it was mere coincidence that they sprung their trap just as we were patrolling?”

The brawny blonde was still red with anger, but his scowl was softening into a thoughtful frown. “Before Ostagar, Duncan told me about darkspawn emissaries. And no, they don't negotiate. They're the magic users, as you pointed out, but they're said to be intelligent and some are even capable of speech." He was quiet for a moment before he continued. "This one must have been smart to lay that trap just for us. Duncan... he thought my templar training would be useful against them.

“He wasn’t wrong.” Nereus no longer appeared angry either. “If you wouldn’t have taken that thing out, it could have done serious damage. More than what it did, I mean.”

“You’re right.” Alistair admitted softly, rising when Bethany finished her work. “It could have been a lot worse. I wasn’t thinking… I just wanted to save them.”

Nereus stepped aside to let him pass. “You saved others in their place.”

The senior Warden didn’t say anything more. He picked up the pieces of his armor and went outside to clean up.

“I’m sorry for that.” Nereus said loudly enough for everyone to hear. “It was a difficult choice, but… I believe it was the right one.”

Leif watched as the girls went through the task of cleaning and healing the wounds. He wondered if he would have been able to make the same choice as Nereus or if he would have thought like Alistair. If he’d been there, would it have made a difference? Or would they have argued in the middle of a battle? The thoughts worried him.

“You don’t gotta apologize.” He said begrudgingly. “I think… I think when we leave tomorrow we need to set some things straight.”

The mage watched him curiously. “Oh?”

He nodded. “We gotta do it as a group, though. All of us together.”

“You want us to decide on who will lead us.” Adora said from the kitchen. She’d quickly moved out of the way when the two injured Wardens had come in and she’d taken to watching silently from the food laden safety of the kitchen.

“Yeah.” Leif confirmed. “I don’t think I’m the only one who noticed. We don’t all work well together. We gotta figure out a way to work so we don’t get us all killed. So that means we need some ground rules. We gotta have battle plans; like who fights by who, who stays back, who handles what kinda enemies. We gotta know who we take orders from in what situations so we don’t act recklessly. We also gotta know when to shut our mouths and let someone else do all the talkin’.”

Somehow, they were all listening to him. Normally he didn’t talk so much or make big speeches. He wasn’t used to so many people hearing him out. The only one he was worried about was Nereus, though. The mage was watching him very carefully, almost as if he was trying to figure out what he was thinking.

“You’re right.” His semi-nemesis admitted at last. “We don’t function well as a team. That’s something we’ll have to work on if we hope to succeed in our quest. I take it the two of you already have some ideas?”

Adora nodded. “Yes. I’ve been watching everyone since we’ve all gotten back together. I thought maybe we could go over battle strategies on the road, but maybe we should all talk sooner.”

“We should.” Leif agreed. “Tonight. I know the other two don’t like comin’ inside, so maybe we could go to them.”

“A solid idea!” Nereus praised, rising when he deemed the healing procedure done. “If I’m not mistaken, our dinner is ready, is it not?”

Leandra had been quietly working in the kitchen during their little healing session, but she was always listening. The woman was always on top of whatever was going on in her home.

“Indeed it is. Would you all mind helping me with bringing it outside? And perhaps warn your companions that they’re about to be bombarded with dinner guests?” She was smiling, but her eyes seemed much more tired than she herself appeared. “Oh and Beth? Would you help me with the table? I need to speak with you.”

Leif took that opportunity to grab a large platter of bread and quickly made his way outside. He didn’t want to be around for that talk.

 

* * *

 

 

As expected, Sten and Morrigan were not keen on having guests in their campground. In fact, they weren’t keen on even being in the same camp. Morrigan had set her tent and fire pit noticeably farther from the house than Sten. Adora had to fetch her and presumably bribe her into joining them. So far that girl was the only one she paid any heed to and Leif had to wonder at that strange relationship. He wouldn’t call them friends, but there was certainly _something_ there that made Morrigan listen to Adora.

When they’d set up the table and brought out a few more chairs, the food was set up for everyone. They barely had enough plates and cutlery to go around, but they somehow managed. Leif had already had his fill of stew earlier, so he wasn’t taking up any unnecessary pieces.

While everyone was busy eating, Leif quietly conversed with Adora and they shared a few of their thoughts. Eventually he saw Alistair quietly rejoin them, followed by the hounds. The two had really taken to him and he wondered if the other Warden knew anything about dogs; he certainly didn’t know much since he’d never seen one until coming to the surface. Everything he knew, he knew from Adora.

Just like the other nights, conversation permeated the eating area. Sten wasn’t prone to joining in, but it was clear that he was listening intently. Morrigan seemed to be doing her best to ignore everyone unless Adora forced her to put in a word or two; even then, the witch was snippy and short in her responses.

Eventually talk simmered down enough to where Leif felt it was time they had their team discussion. He stood up and looked over everyone and was awestruck that they’d somehow assembled so many people in such a small amount of time. Just days ago he’d feared that he and Adora were the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden. Now he knew that not only were they not alone with that burden, but there were others willing to join them in their battle against the Blight.

It gave him hope. Just a little, but it was enough.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Adora standing beside him. She smiled encouragingly and he nodded. Everyone was looking now.

“I don’t know how to start this, so I’m just gonna say what I’ve been thinkin’.” He said, raising his voice above his usual low muttering. “There’s a lotta us here now. We got mages, warriors, nobles, and thieves in our group. People from different worlds, practically. And somehow we gotta fight not just darkspawn, but now this Teyrn Loghain and whatever he thinks he can throw at us. It’s not gonna be easy. Most’ve us don’t know each other and we sure as shit don’t know how to fight next to each other. If we’re gonna win, that’s gotta change.”

Leif was beginning to feel the pressure of all eyes on him. He knew he had to say something else, but he was finding it difficult to bring up the words.

Adora saved him.

“I know this may be difficult to admit, but we need a leader.” She said, using the same tone of voice he remembered her using on the highwaymen. “The Grey Wardens suffered a terrible loss at Ostagar and now we few are bereft of leadership. We cannot question the orders and motives of our teammates, lest we fall into bickering that could cost us a battle or worse; our lives. We have a journey of vast proportion before us; we must be ready for anything, which means we’ll need to build resources, battle tactics, fallback plans, and perhaps even a network of contacts in various locations. There is so much at stake here… we cannot give into our weaknesses. There are many difficult decisions ahead and we have to trust in our comrades and our leader to make the right choice. I know that trust is earned, but we don’t have the luxury of time anymore.” She took a deep breath, looking everyone in the eyes before she continued. “Together, we can do this. So now, I ask that together we come to a decision. Who will lead us?”

To the surprise of everyone, Morrigan was the first to speak. “I have a wonder, if you will indulge me.”

Adora smiled approvingly at the dark haired mage. “Of course, Morrigan. Any questions and input are welcome.”

“Of those of you that remain, is Alistair not the senior Warden?” She asked coyly, looking across the space at the cleaned and healed warrior. “Why has he not been made the default leader?”

Leif had been wondering that himself. Alistair had many qualities that made him think he’d be a great leader. He was kind, compassionate, strong, and he definitely had more experience than the rest of them. He was kind of charismatic in a way, too.

Alistair was frowning, though, in response to the witch’s questioning. “You find that _curious_ , do you?”

Morrigan smiled sweetly. “In fact, you defer to new recruits. Is this a policy of the Grey Wardens? Or a personal one?”

The bickering was already beginning. Leif could feel it.

Once again, Adora came to the rescue.

“Morrigan,” she scolded softly. “Please don’t start something right now. We’re all trying our best to figure this out.”

“I am simply curious,” the mage said oversensitively. “Are you not? Or does no one make the mistake of thinking him a capable leader?”

“Maybe you’d prefer to lead?” Alistair snapped. “That would be worth a good laugh, for a while.”

“You sound so _very_ defensive.” Morrigan teased.

“Couldn’t you crawl into a bush somewhere and die? That would be great.” Alistair grumbled, tearing into a dinner roll.

There was an awkward silence between the rest of them as Adora quietly bargained with Morrigan. Leif left the side of the two women and went over to where Alistair was now brooding. The normally agreeable warrior seemed to be in a foul mood, but Leif somehow doubted it was entirely Morrigan’s doing.

“Hey,” he ventured, standing about as tall as the warrior was when seated. “You okay?”

Chewing the bread contemplatively, Alistair eventually offered a response. “Yes. No. Does it matter?”

“It does.” Leif assured him. “Look, I know she’s kind’ve a bitch, but she’s got a point.”

Alistair groaned helplessly. “Oh you have _got_ to be kidding me. _You_ are agreeing with Morrigan?”

Leif frowned. “I called her a bitch and you think I’m on her side?” He sighed. “Look, I don’t know what you’re goin’ through, but I know this: you know more about the Blight and darkspawn and Wardens than anyone here. We have _no_ idea what we’re doing without you.”

“I… I understand that. I just…” For all of his hesitation, he didn’t sound conflicted. He sounded scared. “I can’t. I can’t be the leader we need.”

Before he could get any more out of him, another voice commanded attention.

“Alright, listen up.” Nereus demanded, standing in the center of the semicircle they’d formed over dinner. “While everyone here is trying to come to a decision over this, I already know what needs to be done.” He paused dramatically, but no one interrupted. “Adora and Leif are both right. We need plans and we need someone to make the hard decisions. We need to assign roles within our group to make sure we’re playing to our strengths, not our weaknesses. You know what I can’t do? Read a battle. Know what I _can_ do? I can explode things! And clearly make the tough choices. I can see the big picture here. I know some of you want to save the world, but you seem to think the world is every single face you see. It isn’t. It’s that and the ones you _don’t_ see. We can’t save every individual, but we _can_ save the world. If we don’t get caught up in every petty squabble that crosses our path.”

“These ‘petty squabbles’ are putting coin in your pocket.” Leliana calmly reminded him. “Helping people does make a difference, Nereus.”

“Scooping water out of a sinking boat makes a difference, sure. But you know what makes a bigger difference? Plugging up the holes.” The mage was pacing now and going out of his way to look at everyone individually. “Right now, we’re all in a sinking ship. The darkspawn are the water and no matter how many we kill, we won’t plug the holes. Loghain is preventing us from plugging up those holes because he thinks it’s just a little light rain.” He stopped pacing and stood with his back straight. “We can’t fight a battle on every front at the same time. We have to be smart about this. So… Adora.”

The noblewoman jumped at her name and rose from her seat beside Morrigan. “Yes?”

“Here’s what we’ve got right now. We have the Grey Warden treaties for Dalish elves, Orzammar’s army, and mages from the Circle. Loghain has half of the royal army, plus whatever he’s picked up from Ostagar to Denerim. Right now, we can’t touch him.”

Adora nodded. “Precisely. We would need to call upon all of the treaties together to even hope of standing a chance against Loghain, but even then we would be at a disadvantage. These treaties allow us access to these armies to fight against the Blight, not a civil war.”

The mage frowned. “A fair point. So we need to put an end to this civil war before we can fight the Blight. However, if that takes too long we must have our forces ready to take on the horde at a moment’s notice.”

“There is another resource we may call upon,” Adora said slowly, looking first at Alistair and then at Nereus. “Arl Eamon Guerrin. All of his forces were absent from Ostagar, meaning he still has his army. Not only that but he was King Cailan’s uncle. If I could speak with him, he would certainly hear us out. With Arl Eamon’s reputation and his army, we would have a shot at taking Loghain out of power.”

“There’s just one slight problem with all of that.” Alistair said, speaking up. “If what we’ve heard is true, then Arl Earmon is very, very ill. If he dies, we’ll have no one to help us stand against the teyrn.”

Adora nodded emphatically. “He’s right. We should make the alliance with Arl Eamon our first priority. I admit, I’m suspicious about the timing behind his illness. The arl is no young man, but he’s always had his health. I suspect this may have something in common with… with Arl Howe’s treachery.”

Leif could see the flash of emotions running through her eyes when she thought of what happened to her family. Still, she soldiered through it.

“A valid suspicion, then.” Nereus noted. “Then it’s decided. Tomorrow we leave for Redcliffe.”

There were murmurs of approval and resignation both. Leif stood up again. “Wait, there’s one thing we haven’t decided on.”

Nereus arched an eyebrow. “You speak of our leadership. I thought it obvious.”

Leif frowned. “Enlighten me.”

“I shall be acting commander over our little troupe.” Nereus announced showily. “You and Adora have the honor of serving as advisors in your fields of knowledge. A team effort is still required to get us through our trials, but for matters of command we need solid guidance. I believe I fit that requirement and have proven myself more than once.”

“He’s right.” Alistair acknowledged somberly. “We need someone to make the hard choices.”

Leif bit back any protest he would’ve had at the mage’s ascension to power. If Alistair and Adora were backing him up, he saw no point in fighting against it.

“Fine.” He growled. “You’re the leader. Don’t fuck it up.”

Nereus smiled blithely. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

For some reason he found himself believing him. They had a long road ahead of them; he hoped that the mage spoke truly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling lazy, so here's an older drawing I did of Bethany instead of a new one.


	34. Impending Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maiara and the Hawke siblings arrive in Lothering ahead of the hoard.

\-------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 18th

\-------------------------

 

It felt like they’d been running for weeks instead of days. Between the rain, the bugs, and the darkspawn, it felt like they hadn’t been getting any rest at all. Artemis and Carver were very likable compared to the other humans she’d met, so at least the company wasn’t bad. Aside from Adora and Alistair, Maiara hadn’t really cared for any of the humans she’d interacted with since leaving the clan. The Hawke siblings reminded her of her own clan mates in a strange way.

“Damn.”

Artemis’s low voice drew her out of her thoughts. Maiara felt the odd tickle in her skull and she knew before she looked what she would find. They were on the great stone road called the Highway and overlooking the vast expanse of the Hinterlands. Normally the walls of the Highway were too high to look over, but they’d come across a large crack, granting them a view of the land below.

It was dusk and the air had a thick, foggy look about it, but that didn’t do anything to hide the lights blooming on the ground. Hazy twinkling lights peeked out from the dark mugginess, marking the endless count of camps manned by darkspawn grunts. There had to be hundreds, if not thousands, of the campfires scattered across what they could see of the landscape.

The buzzing in Maiara’s mind grew louder and she had to close her eyes and look away. It almost reminded her of when she’d been sick not so long ago, but instead of weakness she felt dread.

The trio stepped away from the break in the wall and quietly started back down the ancient road. They had a long ways to go before they could feel safe again.

They hurriedly passed the darkspawn encampment, sometimes sprinting down the dark Highway when they heard a noise; every growl, every rolling stone, even the wind was suspect. There was no telling when and where the darkspawn would catch up to them. No matter how tired they were, there was too much risk in stopping for the night. They had to reach Lothering before it was too late.

* * *

 

 

It was nearly dawn when they saw the dim lights of civilization. Maiara was exhausted, but she could no longer feel the buzzing in her head; they had a day, at the very least. She had no doubt that the darkspawn would be upon them after that.

“Thank the Maker,” Artemis gasped, standing straight as she caught her breath, taking in the sight of her home. “We’ve made it.”

“Yes, we have.” Carver agreed wearily. “Or nearly. We’re not there until I’m lying in bed.”

His sister chuckled lightly and clapped him on the shoulder. “Soon, little brother. I think we could all use a good rest.” She turned and smiled at Maiara. “You are more than welcome to stay with us tonight. If we have time, we can look for your friends tomorrow.”

Maiara did not think they would wait, if they’d made it out at all. There was too much to risk. Still, she returned the smile. “Ma serannas. I would be grateful.”

Tired, yet hopeful, the three entered Lothering on the ancient thoroughfare, passing the bodies of many a bandit along the way.

 

* * *

 

 

Lothering was one step away from becoming a ghost town. The clan had passed through the husks of towns on the outskirts of civilization from time to time and Maiara was distinctly reminded of a plague town they’d seen just last year.

The refugee camps had left a mark around the entrance to the village and even now a few tents remained. There were more than a few bodies left out under the overcast sky – the blankets were likely too precious to leave behind to cover them.

The village itself fared no better. Many homes appeared to be abandoned and there were few people out on the streets. There were a few groups obviously headed towards the Highway, carrying what they could with carts and livestock. There was a low din coming from the tavern they passed and Maiara could only assume that some people just weren’t willing to leave.

They were on the outer edge of Lothering now, heading towards one of the isolated farms. It wasn’t hard to spot the mass graves along the way.

Looking up at the Hawke siblings, she could see the devastation of the city was hitting them hard. She felt like she should say something, but she wasn’t sure about how to give condolences in a situation like theirs. She’d never had a stationary home; how could she relate?

Before they’d even made it to the house, they were greeted by a cheerfully barking mabari. Maiara was startled at first – for a moment she thought it might be Adora’s hound, Lady – before she saw Carver drop to his knees to embrace the massive dog.

“Brute!” He laughed as the dog attacked his face with its slobbery tongue. “I missed you, too, you big lug.”

Artemis was crouching down to pet the hound as well. “You been taking good care of Mom and Bethany? You know you’re the man of the house when Carver is gone.”

Brute barked happily and licked her face as soon as it was near enough.

Carver released the dog and he bounced around the three of them excitedly, taking a few moments to give Maiara a cautionary sniff before moving on and leading the way to the house.

When they were finally walking up to the porch, Maiara could make out signs of a former camp near the house.

Carver noticed, too. “It seems Mother let some refugees camp out.”

Artemis glanced at the signs and frowned before rushing to the door. “Mom?” The door was unlocked and she pushed it open with ease. “Bethany?”

There was panic in her voice as she entered the house, calling for her family. Carver and Brute followed swiftly at her heels and Maiara was right behind him. The four of them had just entered when a thin woman came bustling down the hall to greet them, a shocked look on her face.

Without wasting a moment to take everything in, the Hawkes embraced their mother, pulling her into a hug between the two of them. They were crying, Carver quietly with tears streaming down his suntanned cheeks, Artemis sniffling and kissing the top of her mother’s head, and their mother openly sobbing as she held her children. Brute circled the three of them, whining worriedly as the humans cried.

Feeling the strongest sense of homesickness and awkwardness, Maiara quietly slipped back out the door.

 

* * *

 

 

As tired as she was and as much as she didn’t want to wander Lothering alone, Maiara needed to ask questions. The town was fairly empty, so if the Hawkes came looking for her they wouldn’t have a hard time finding her. Not that she didn’t stand out enough. A dark skinned Dalish elf with a big sword and Grey Warden armor would probably draw an eyeful.

Starting with the nearest public establishment, Maiara pushed the tavern door open. It was surprisingly busy, with at least half of the place full. It was clear that many of the occupants had been sleeping there for days. A few turned to stare before going back to their drinks and conversation, but the bartender didn’t look away.

Walking straight up to the bar, Maiara almost leaned against the counter before seeing how sticky it was. She remained standing.

“Am I the first Warden you’ve seen here?” She asked calmly, realizing that now more than just the bartended was looking at her.

The man shook his head. “No, ser. But you’re the first Dalish I’ve seen in m’life if that counts for anything.”

She was beginning to feel uneasy for some reason. She slowly turned to look to her left and spotted a table of men speaking in hushed whispers. Turning her attention back to the bartender, she could see that he was aware of it, too.

“The Wardens you saw,” she said coolly, ignoring the growing sense of disquiet building in her chest. “What did they look like?”

“Well, there was a dwarf. Nice fella, that one.” He seemed to be genuine about giving her a good answer. “Let’s see, he had a… a beard and a tattoo on his face. There was a girl and two dogs with him.” His eyes flicked to the men whispering before he leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I’m takin’ it that you don’t know, but Teyrn Loghain has branded the Wardens traitors to the realm. Shh, I know, I know. But there’s a bounty on your head and these are desperate times. I hope you’ve got friends waiting outside for you.”

That explained her weird feeling. She mentally talked herself out of outright challenging the suspicious men to a fight and gave a curt nod to the bartender before turning and heading for the door.

_He didn’t say what happened to them._ She worried for her companions, but his silence may have been to protect them. She hoped that was the case.

Raising her arm to grip the hilt of her sword with one hand, she pushed the door of the tavern open with the other.

 

* * *

 

 

“You picked a bad time to join the Wardens, knife ear.”

Maiara pulled the blade from over her shoulder in a wider than necessary motion, forcing the human men that had followed her out to back away. She whirled angrily, letting her long, untamed hair flip behind her as she glared at her would be attackers.

“You would do well to watch your tongue, human.” She said lowly, putting as much aggression in her tone as she could muster. She was so tired, but she couldn’t afford to show any weakness. “Surely you’ve heard many a tale about what the Dalish do to your kind?”

Not that her clan did anything other than warn people away. She wouldn’t doubt it for a moment if people told her about clans terrorizing human villages and stealing from innocent travelers. Some clans did such things, but not hers.

Still, it never hurt to play upon common fears and stereotypes.

The men hesitated. She could see now that while they were armed, they were hardly prepared to take her on. They had knives and one of them had rope. As long as they didn’t get close – and they wouldn’t with her sword’s reach – she’d be fine.

“You’re outnumbered!” One of them shouted with bravado. “There’s no way you can take on all of us!”

Maiara laughed loudly. “A single Dalish warrior is worth at least a dozen humans. You,” she nodded at their group, “are hardly worth killing.”

With a cry of rage, one of the men charged forward with a knife in hand. It was almost too easy for her to step aside and strike him with the flat of her blade, causing him to stumble and fall. Never turning her back on the others, she kicked the man’s ribs and shoved him back onto the ground before he could rise and catch his breath. She kept one food planted on the small of his back and carefully rested her sword over his neck, all while watching the rest of his posse for signs of aggression.

“I doubt a single one of you is a regular brawler, let alone a trained soldier.” She said evenly, smiling when she saw the dawning dread on their faces as they watched her loom over their friend. “Please tell me how you intend on fighting, let alone capturing, a Dalish Grey Warden. I have fought scores of bandits in defense of my clan and many darkspawn were felled beneath my blade at Ostagar. Do you intend to join them?”

The three of them dropped their weapons in sync. Maiara was fairly surprised that it had been so easy. Then she noticed them looking passed her, not at her. She turned her head to see both Artemis and Carver standing behind her with their weapons ready. What had caused the men to cease their aggression was more than just seeing a little more steel, however.

There had been more than four men.

Others must have circled around from the back of the tavern to flank her, because there were half a dozen men frozen in fear, their eyes trained on the auburn haired woman with her spear pointed at them and frost skating across her fingertips.

Artemis raised the spear over her head and let a shower of snow come tumbling down from the area above her. “If anyone here is getting cold feet about harming our friend here, I advise you to run along. _Now._ ”

Maiara could swear she heard Carver groan in embarrassment.

The men scattered in every direction and Maiara stepped back from the one man she’d pinned, allowing him to scamper out from under her and flee.

“Don’t forget to alert your friendly neighborhood templar!” Artemis shouted, laughing as the last of the men vanished around corners.

Carver shook his head and sighed, strapping his sword down again. “There may still be templars at the chantry, Arte. You shouldn’t have done that.”

The mage shrugged and stamped the ground with her staff. “I don’t know about you, but I didn’t want to fight. I’m tired.” She looked at Maiara. “Aren’t you tired? What are you doing out here? We said you could stay with us.”

Maiara sighed and started walking back towards the Hawke farm. “I… I didn’t want to intrude. And I needed to find my companions.”

Artemis smiled. “Well, I’ve got good news for you.”

“I… what?” Maiara stuttered, puzzled. “How?”

“I think you should ask our mother.” Carver said, adding to her confusion. “She’s making us something to eat. We’ll talk over food and then rest. We leave tomorrow.”

Her head was swimming with possibilities now. The odds of her companions meeting with the other half of the Hawke family while she was with Artemis and Carver… it was more than coincidence. It had to be. She was looking forward to what their mother had to say.

 

* * *

 

 

Their mother’s name was Leandra and she was a kind woman. While most of the house was barren, there had still been food stored away while she’d waited for her other children to return. The last of the perishables had been prepared for their meal that night and Maiara hadn’t realized how absurdly hungry she was until a heaping bowl of stew was sitting in front of her.

For the first half of the meal, all she did was eat and listen to what Leandra had to tell them. Apparently it was mere days ago when she’d got an unexpected visitor at her door. Nereus was apparently a part of her extended family and he’d brought with him the other Wardens, the witch, and a couple of new faces. They’d stayed in town doing a variety of chores and errands, warned people about the darkspawn, and left town barely two days ago. At Leandra’s request, they’d taken Bethany with them. In that time, she’d had most of their belongings packed up and shipped out of town with the last caravan.

“I was beginning to worry,” their mother confessed, her hand shaking as she reached out to touch Carver’s arm. “I’m so glad you made it.”

Carver had eaten his fair share and he’d listened just as patiently. Now he was frowning down at the table. “How could you send our sister off with strangers?”

“Carver.” Artemis said sharply, a warning in her voice.

He raised his glare to his sister. “Beth is off who knows where with a group of Wardens. They have a _target_ painted on them right now and she’s with them.” He shook his head. “We could have left together if you’d just waited a few more days. Now how will we find her?”

Leandra looked both shocked at her son’s behavior and more than a little hurt. “I… I wasn’t going to let her die with me.” Tears were forming in the creases around her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I love you, but I was beginning to think… I _had to_. I had a chance to save her and I took it.”

Artemis reached out to hold her mother’s hand. “It’s okay. You did the right thing.” She shot an apologetic look at Maiara before focusing on her mother. “You said you sent our thing away. Where?”

Gratefully squeezing her daughter’s hand, Leandra raised her watery eyes and said, “I sent them home, to my brother. In Kirkwall.”

“Shit.” Carver leaned back in his chair.

“Andraste’s _tits_! Mom!” Artemis stood up from the table and looked between her mother and Carver. “We can’t go to Kirkwall!”

“Well, _we_ could. Maybe not you.” Carver teased halfheartedly.

“I mean, I _could_ , but I think they’d offer me a permanent vacation in the _Gallows_. Thanks, but no thanks. I’d rather take my chances here.”

“It would only be temporary,” Leandra said soothingly. “Just until we can get things together. Besides, at least we’d have a safe place to stay in Hightown. We could keep our heads down until the Blight is over, then we can return home.”

Maiara didn’t know squat about Kirkwall, but from how Artemis was reacting, she could guess that it was a bad place to be a mage. If a mage as low key as Artemis was worried, then it was probably more than just bad.

Artemis was shaking her head. “Mom… the last Blight lasted over a decade. And that was when the Wardens were _not_ being hunted by the crown. If we leave, we’re never coming back.”

There was silence at the table then, aside from the sound of Brute slurping up his dinner out of sight. Maiara quietly picked at some cheese and tried to pretend she wasn’t present. She didn’t know what kind of cheese it was, but it was very different from what she was used to. Halla cheese was a lot softer and tangier, but whatever she was eating was hard, sweet, and a little smoky. It was definitely good, though.

“Did you tell Bethany?” Carver asked quietly.

Leandra sighed, rising from the table and walking over to a cupboard. “Yes.” She pulled a bottle of wine out and poured herself a glass. “She said she’d find us when it was over.”

Artemis scoffed at her words. “ _If_ it’s ever over.” Grabbing the bottle for herself, she left the room. “I’m going to sleep until the darkspawn come. Scream if we’re being attacked.”

_Another awkward silence._ Maiara was wondering what the right move was in such a situation. Family dynamics were different when everyone was trapped between the same walls. If she’d witnessed such a thing with her clan it would have been easy to find an excuse and quietly extract herself from the situation. She’d never felt so trapped before.

“I’m sorry you had to witness that.” Leandra confided softly. “I’m sure you’d rather be resting.”

Maiara felt just a little guilty. “Think nothing of it. We’re all exhausted and at our wits end.”

Carver chuckled. “That’s a polite way to put it.” He looked over with a weary smile. “You’d be surprised, but they’re normally not the ones arguing.”

“To be perfectly honest, I prefer it when you two fight.” Leandra grumbled as she sipped at her wine. “At least then I don’t have to get involved.”

Things were a little more relaxed with Artemis gone, but Maiara could still feel the tension in the air.

“I, um, don’t have any siblings.” She said, trying to shift their focus just a little. “My parents died when I was a babe, so I was raised by the clan. It felt like I had dozens of brothers and sisters. More often than not our arguments turned into fist fights. I, ah, may have started more than a few. And finished them.”

Her confession earned a laugh from Carver and a small smile from Leandra.

“I can’t imagine such a proper young woman getting into fist fights!” Leandra teased lightly. “You just seem so calm and reserved.”

Maiara smiled nervously. “I assure you, I am anything but. I have a bit of a temper, truth be told.”

“Can’t say I’ve seen any evidence of it.” Carver noted. “Although, there was that almost fight at the tavern… you didn’t seem angry, exactly, just very… confident.”

“‘Almost’ fight?” Leandra asked, aghast. “What happened?”

“Some men tried to attack me for being a Warden.” Maiara admitted, trying to brush it off and blushing slightly at Carver’s compliment. “I was merely projecting in the hopes that I could scare them off. I would have lost horribly had your son and daughter not come after me.”

Carver was smiling, looking more than a little pleased. “She would have had them on the run in no time. You’re very quick with that blade. I don’t think they were expecting that.”

Leandra had finished her wine by then and she was looking at the sword leaning against the wall. “That’s yours? You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met if you carry that thing around.”

Maiara shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of practice, I suppose. I don’t think I could handle a sword as big as Carver’s, though. That’s far beyond me.”

When Carver snorted into his drink, she wondered if she’d said something wrong. His sword was definitely larger than hers, though. He could probably life hers with one hand, whereas she needed to use both hands.

When she caught Leandra actively attempting to ignore her son’s poorly disguised laughter, she finally understood.

“Oh.” She said, unable to contain the blushing this time. _Creators, why? He’s_ human _after all. I don’t think humans are…_ She shook her head. There was no way she was going to finish that thought. She wasn’t ready for it, not so soon after…

“I think it’s time I retire as well.” She said quickly, jumping up from the table. “Thank you, Leandra. For everything.”

The older woman was smiling serenely now as she rose from her seat. “Of course, dear. Thank you for bringing my children home.”

Maiara nodded mutely and kept her eyes averted from Carver. She was sure he was still grinning foolishly at her embarrassment.

Leandra was beside her now with a hand delicately touching her arm. “Why don’t I show you to my room? I think I’ll take with Artemis and Carver tonight.”

“If you’re sure…” She mumbled meekly.

“Of course.”

She was led down the short hall and passed one room before the door to another was opened. There was a dresser with the drawers pulled out, a small table with two chairs next to a window, and a bed large enough for two adult humans. There was a small oil lamp attached to the wall near the bed, lighting the room and keeping the shadows at bay.

Leandra walked to the windows and pulled the curtains closed before returning to the door. “Just put the light out when you’re ready to sleep..”

Maiara was already beginning to strip the armor off. She spotted another door in the room. “Where does that go?”

“The washroom. Feel free to use it. There should still be some water from earlier. Did you want your bag?” Leandra hesitated before starting down the hall to fetch it.

She nodded. “I can get it myself. Thank you.”

Leandra smiled tiredly. “Of course, dear.”

When she’d closed the door behind her, Maiara dropped facedown onto the bed. It was so _soft_. She knew she needed to finish getting undressed and clean her gear while she could – she’d been wearing the blood and rain soaked armor for _days_ – but she was just so _tired_. The encounter with the humans in Lothering had been very stressful and nerve wracking. Finally feeling safe and eating so much warm food and now lying on the big, soft bed… she didn’t want to do anything else.

She didn’t know how long she was lying there, letting all of the aches and pains make themselves known, when she heard a gentle tapping on the door.

She wasn’t sure if she said “Come in” or if she merely made a sound that could have been mistaken for words.

The door creaked open and she heard male laughter, which prompted her to immediately roll over and sit up. Carver was standing in the doorway, holding her travel pack and sword.

“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable.” He jested, leaning the sword against a wall and carefully setting the bag on the floor.

“I… the bed is soft.” She explained lamely, forcing herself to leave the softness to grab her bag. She’d need to change after cleaning, and she was hoping she had something not completely ruined in her pack.

Maiara pulled a pair of leggings out from the middle of the pack. It was the pair she’d worn under her Dalish made armor, but she’d packed it up when she was fitted for the Grey Warden set. At least it was something.

He laughed again. “So it is.” He paused before leaving. “So… the other Wardens. They’re good people, right?”

She could tell Carver was worried about his sister. She thought about what she knew of the people she’d traveled with since leaving her clan behind. She didn’t think any of them were bad people, really. Nereus was perhaps more of an annoyance than a bad person. Adora and Leif were blatantly kind. Alistair, from what she could judge in their short time together, also appeared to be very nice.

“Yes.” She said after a moment of thought. “They are. I have to believe the ones who have joined them are, as well.”

He nodded solemnly. “I hope so. She’s… well, she’s my baby sister.”

“I thought you were twins?” Maiara said, smiling kindly.

He shrugged. “I was born first.” He sighed, leaning against the doorway. “I was supposed to protect her and Mother by leaving. Now look at what’s happened.”

Maiara really wanted to wash up and go to bed, but the human was oblivious to her wants. She shrugged to herself and decided to change while he talked. He didn’t seem to be paying much attention anyway.

“You couldn’t have known what was going to happen.” She said, pulling the matching tunic out of the pack. Now she just wished she’d held onto her old armor instead of selling it. “By all accounts, Ostagar should have been victorious.”

“Yes, it should have. It would have been, if not for the teyrn being a bloody coward.” He growled, crossing his arms over his chest. “I guess we should consider ourselves lucky. At least some Wardens made it out. So it’s not completely hopeless, right?” He turned and smiled before quickly looking away, covering his eyes with one hand. “Maker, what are you-! Why are you just-”

“I want to wash the mud off before I go to sleep.” Maiara interrupted him, carrying a basin of water out of the bathroom in her underclothes and setting it on the empty dresser. “And you clearly need someone to vent to. It can be one or the other or both. You decide.”

She looked over her shoulder as she dipped a rag into the chilled water and began to scrub at some of the streaks of dirt and blood on her skin. Creators, but she wouldn’t kill to be in a river. She saw the one running through town, but there was no way she was going out by herself again.

Carver was still looking away, but he’d moved his hand. She could just barely detect the red in his cheeks by the light of the lamp.

Human inhibition was certainly comical.

“As you were saying,” she said, looking away and focusing on washing. “There is some hope, yes.”

_I have to believe there is._ She scrubbed at her skin and closed her eyes, fighting back the urge to cry. If there was no hope, then her sacrifice and departure from the clan would be all for nothing. If there was no hope, she had to let go of the belief that she’d survived for a reason.

As she washed herself in the dimly lit room, she wondered if maybe he’d slipped away, too embarrassed to continue standing there. _No…_ If she focused, she could hear him breathing. He almost sounded like he was asleep. She looked back and saw him staring at the floor, his posture relaxed and eyes looking especially bright in the poor lighting.

“Where will you go?” He asked softly, eyes never lifting from their downward gaze. “Are you going to find them?”

Maiara hesitated, looking down into the murky water. She had to, didn’t she? She couldn’t do anything on her own. And there was no way she could just run off with the Hawke family to their safe haven. She had a duty; she just didn’t know how to find it again.

“I will…” She took a breath. She was as clean as she could get. “I will find them. Somehow.”

_The treaties…_ She didn’t remember what all of them were for, but she did know that at least one of them was an obligation from the Dalish clans of Ferelden. Her clan may be gone already, but there might always be others. She had to find them. Eventually the other Wardens would find them, too.

“There’s that confidence again.” He said. “Which way? The nearest port is in Gwaren, between the Wilds and the Brecilian. I know moving north is safer, but I’m thinking we might be able to skirt around the hoard while it’s… distracted.”

She’d never been to Gwaren, but if it was close to the Brecilian then it wouldn’t hurt to go that way. Every clan passed through the massive forest at some point. It was one of the last wild places in Ferelden.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to tag along. Just a little longer.” She replied softly, dressing herself in the quiet gloom.

“We could use you.” Carver agreed and she knew he was looking at her. “You can sense the darkspawn, can’t you?”

This prompted her to turn and meet his gaze. “How did you know?”

“I’ve seen you react to them before we saw them. It was slow at first, but it became more obvious. And your eyes…” He looked away. “I’m sorry. It’s weird, isn’t it? Having someone tell you.”

She pushed her armor to one side of the bed and sat down, feeling much more comfortable in the tunic and leggings. “My eyes?”

He stayed by the door. “When we were fighting the last group of ‘spawn. Your eyes were glowing.”

Maiara snorted in disbelief. “You obviously haven’t spent much time around elves. Our eyes reflect the light. We have incredible night vision.”

He shook his head and there was something in his eyes that made her question the explanation she’d given. “No, I’ve seen that. Your eyes were _glowing_. Like there was… _light_ escaping. I don’t know how to describe it.”

Maiara slowly let the bed pull her down into its softness as she pondered his words. Perhaps it was another side effect from the Joining? She’d have to ask Alistair; if she ever found them again.

“Aaand you’re tired.” Carver laughed from the doorway. “Thank you for hearing me out.”

“Da’rahn…” She mumbled, rolling over and grabbing a pillow.

The light went out and Maiara with it.

 

* * *

 

 

There was something screeching in her head.

Darkness, deeper than any she’d known before. It was so dark and intense she could sense nothing of the world around her.

She was assaulted by the wretched sound again. Her body ached with the sound of it and she cried, wishing only for an end.

Slowly, it dissolved into whispers, coating her like oil, leaving her no room to breathe or understand. The creeping susurrus wound itself around and inside her until it was all she knew. For endless moments she lay suspended in the sound until it began to seem like music playing only for her.

Then it was cold; damp and humid, as if she were near water or underground. The scent of rot, desiccated flesh, and dried blood filled her nostrils and she was left suffocating and gagging.

Her eyes were hit by a blinding light and the heat of flame was so close she swore she felt her skin scorching. Looking up, her vision blurred as her whole form was shaken by a crashing, monstrous roar.

 

* * *

 

 

An uncanny feeling shot through her consciousness and suddenly Maiara was awake and gasping for air. Flailing in the sheets as she struggled to rise, her hand slapped cold metal armor and she knew where she was. Her eyes searched the room for threats and finding none, she shakily left the bed walked to the nearest window. Listening for a moment, she heard nothing more than the wind. Pulling aside one of the curtains, she looked out to see it was not yet dawn. She knew it was close, even without the light. She could feel it in her bones.

Closing the curtain again, she returned to the bed and snatched her armor. There was just the faintest tickling in the back of her skull, but she knew enough from the dream.

They were coming.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forever working on character portraits.
> 
> Translation Notes:  
> Da’rahn – “You’re welcome.”


	35. Ashes to Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maiara and the Hawke family leave Lothering behind. On the long road to Gwaren they run into more survivors and more trouble.

\--------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 19th

\--------------------------

 

They were miles from Lothering by dawn.

Maiara had barely slept, but even the short amount of rest she’d had in a human bed paired with the hot meal and clean clothes had rejuvenated her when she’d thought nothing would. She’d quickly thrown her armor on over her old clothes and awakened the rest of the Hawke house. They were out and on their way down the Highway in no time.

For the first hour, she’d thought maybe they might have enough of a head start on the horde. Surely the ghoulish fiends would be slowed by their destruction of the village they’d just fled. Even that hope had gone by the time dusty rays of sunshine broke through the darkness. Maiara could still feel them in her mind; close, far too close.

The Highway had crumbled after a couple of miles and they’d had to continue on foot. There were well worn roads leading off into several directions. They’d started moving southeast, towards the Southron Hills, when they looked back to see the smoke rising over the hills.

Leandra was already wavering on her feet, unused to such a high stress run. She was dressed more sensibly than the night before, wearing well-worn leather boots, trousers, an oversized shirt, and jacket cinched tight with a belt. Maiara could only assume the clothing had come from her late husband’s wardrobe.

The older woman looked back over her shoulder as she slowed to catch her breath. A low moan of anguish slipped out of her throat as she tore her gaze away from the smoking village in the distance.

Artemis moved to her mother’s side, silently wrapping a strong arm around the smaller woman. Leandra leaned into her, hugging her tightly.

“Our home…” She was whispering so softly, Maiara barely heard her.

She looked away and noticed Carver doing the same. It was hard on all of them, she knew. She’d lost her home to the darkspawn in a way… but not on the same scale as the Hawkes had with Lothering.

She could still save her home.

“We have to keep moving.” She said just loud enough for them to hear over the wind. “They won’t stop for long.”

The Hawkes took one last look at the smoking ruins of their longtime home and turned back down the road.

* * *

 

They’d just cut and blasted their way through another small group of darkspawn. The horde had moved quickly after taking Lothering and it seemed they’d sent more than a few scouting bands ahead to look for survivors. The monsters had been unlucky enough to find Maiara and the Hawkes.

The Dalish warrior could feel the dark, scratching sensation trickling through her blood when the creatures drew to close. She and Carver drew their attention while Leandra hid with their hound. When the spawn were distracted, Artemis sent lightning crashing through them while the two warriors finished them off.

It worked well, for the most part. But it slowed them down, giving the fell creatures more than enough time to get ahead of them and plan their own ambushes. The smaller numbers of darkspawn were no problem, but the more of them there were, the harder it was to fool them. While their small group was ideal for sneaking past the horde, their numbers worked against them when they actually came into confrontation.

The road to Gwaren was proving to be long and arduous indeed.

* * *

 

\--------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 22nd

\--------------------------

 

Maiara was beginning to worry. The wear and tear of their dangerous journey was beginning to show much sooner than she’d thought it would. The darkspawn had harried them each day and night, barely giving them time to sleep. They were beginning to run low on food and there was no hunting to be done, as the Blight had already chased most of the wildlife away. They’d run into blight wolves already, but they’d been able to fend the mad beasts off. Protecting Leandra and Brutus had been the hard part; the hound could fight, but they weren’t willing to risk him becoming infected if he was bitten or swallowed corrupted blood.

Aside from feeling almost deliriously tired, the worst part was the hunger. Maiara had never been close to starving before, but that’s what it felt like to her. The journey from Ostagar had been rough, sure, but they’d had better luck with food. If they’d been going north surely that wouldn’t be an issue. Their journey to Gwaren was unfortunately taking them too close to the horde; but the horde was going north, so they’d hopefully be in the clear sooner rather than later.

They were currently enjoying one of their few moments of freedom. They hadn’t run into any darkspawn for a good hour, so it was time to rest. Maiara had been dozing lightly, feeling too tense and hungry to fall into a true sleep. Artemis had volunteered for the first watch, but she could hear arguing now, which meant Carver was awake.

“We can’t argue about this.” His deep voice was brought lower in a whisper. “We’re already part of the way there.”

“And we’re only _going_ to be part of the way there if we don’t take another road.” The mage hissed in reply. “This is a fool’s journey. We should have gone north to begin with. We’ll never make it to Gwaren, let alone blasted _Kirkwall_ with these monsters lurking around every corner.”

“We’ll make it.” He countered sternly. “We have to. We’ve nowhere else to run.”

Silence fell between the siblings and Maiara took that as her cue to rise. She wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon anyway. She moved away from the fire to dig through her pack in search of the few rations of food she had left. They’d taken everything they could carry from the house when they’d left, but that didn’t amount to much with her voracious appetite. It _had_ to be a Warden thing. There was no way she’d ever needed so much food before.

When she’d devoured an apple and a few strips of dried meat (she _thought_ it was sheep, but she couldn’t be sure), she felt the telltale pull in her blood. Jerking upright, she quickly began packing as she finished chewing.

“We need to go.” She said quietly, but loudly enough for the humans to hear. “They’re close again. Leave the fire. It may buy us time if they think we haven’t moved.”

Artemis was already waking their mother while Carver packed their things. At least Leandra had a little food and sleep in her again. Hopefully she wouldn’t fall behind.

They were on the run again in minutes.

* * *

 

They were beginning to see traces of other victims of the Blight. They must be near a village, because there were more than a few corpses dropped along the road now, whatever meager belongings they’d hoped to take with them spilled carelessly in the dirt. It was not a good sign.

Coming to another barren hill, Maiara heard sounds of a fight ahead. She could feel the darkspawn in nearly every direction now, so she couldn’t tell exactly where they were any more. If they were fighting, there had to be other survivors. Drawing her sword, she shared a look with the Hawke siblings.

“Artemis, remain with Brutus and your mother.” She said softly. “Carver and I will go ahead and help if we can.”

The bright eyed mage nodded and set a barrier over herself, her mother, and the hound. Maiara looked to Carver and the two of them crested the hill together. Below they could see a dozen darkspawn circling two warriors; a man and a woman. The man wore heavy armor and carried a sword and shield while the woman wore the uniform of a soldier.

“Well, would you look at that.” Carver muttered lowly. “A templar. And the woman looks like she’s from Ostagar.”

Maiara nodded in acknowledgment before starting down the slope at a jog. She heard Carver following as she let out a cry of rage, drawing the attention of the darkspawn and dividing the force. Watching to be sure Carver was out of range, she swung her blade in a wide arc, cutting through the nearest two spawn at their waists. She quickly lost track of the condition of the two humans they’d come to aid as she and Carver plowed through the grisly beasts with as much power as they could muster.

Within minutes, it was over. She was breathing heavily, but relatively unharmed aside from a few light wounds. Carver looked like he’d fared just the same, but he didn’t look nearly as winded. She motioned for him to retrieve his family and he nodded silently before heading back the way they’d come.

Still trying to catch her breath, she walked around the fallen darkspawn to see the woman kneeling beside the templar. He’d been wounded badly in the fight, but that wasn’t what worried Maiara. Dark tinted spidery veins crawled along his throat and bloodshot eyes looked out of bruised, sullen sockets. Her blood sang in her veins and she knew that it sensed the darkness in him as she drew closer.

The red haired woman looked up at her approach and sighed. “A Warden out here? I didn’t think there were any left after…”

Maiara smiled wryly. “There may as well be none after that disaster.” She watched the man struggle to his feet with sympathy in her eyes. “Are you fit to fight?”

The man nodded stiffly and she could see in his eyes that he knew he was dying. “For now. If I must.”

“No, Wesley.” The woman implored, helping him to stand. “You’re in no condition to fight. I will not allow it.”

Wesley sighed and did his best to resist leaning on his sword. “Aveline-”

“Absolutely not.” She commanded, hefting the shield he’d been carrying onto her own arm. “I won’t lose you.”

Maiara looked back over her shoulder to see the Hawke family joining them. _Thank the Creators_ … She was beginning to feel awkward without a familiar face beside her.

“Thank you for coming to our aid.” Aveline said, drawing her attention back to the two of them. “My name is Aveline Vallen. This is my husband, Ser Wesley.”

“Well met,” Maiara said slowly, biting back her usual Dalish greeting. She had a different role to fill and she would be interacting with more humans than elves. “I am Warden Mahariel. You may call me Maiara.”

“And your companions?” Aveline asked curiously.

“My friends,” she corrected subtly; they were in desperate times, but she knew well enough the reaction a templar might have towards Artemis. “The Hawke family. Carver is the one who helped. His sister Artemis, mother Leandra, and hound Brutus remained behind in case of another wave.”

Artemis nodded formally. “Which there was, I might add. Luckily it was merely a couple of strays and not the numbers you and my brother faced.”

Ser Wesley took one good look at Artemis before taking a wary step back, sword raised in defense. “Keep your distance, apostate.”

“Rude,” Artemis quipped, rolling her eyes. “And here I was thinking I _might_ take a chance at healing that arm of yours. Every sword counts, you know.”

“Wesley!” Aveline hissed in disbelief. “These people saved us!”

The templar wavered slightly on his feet. “The spawn are clear in their intent, but a mage is always unknown.”

“Maybe if you asked _nicely_ -”

“Both of you be quiet.” Maiara snapped, looking between the two. “I don’t care about this feud between your Chantry and magic. Our war is with the darkspawn, not each other. Is that clear?”

For a moment she wasn’t sure if the templar would relent. At last, he did, lowering his sword and leaning against his wife for support. “Of course.”

“You’re right.” Aveline agreed readily, wrapping a freckled arm around her husband’s waist. “We can hate each other when we’re safe from the horde.”

“A strange time to be hunting apostates, Ser Wesley.” Artemis needled, leaning on her staff. “Haven’t you heard there’s a Blight?”

The man was clearing biting his tongue when he spoke. “I come from a village not far from here in the Southron Hills. I was heading north to Denerim on business for the Order…” he paused and looked to his wife. “But I had to turn south when I heard about Ostagar.”

Aveline sighed. “As you’ve surely gathered, I was stationed at Ostagar. I barely escaped with my life and I had hoped to make it to Wesley before the horde. Bad luck – and judgement – brought us together here before the attack.”

“Bad luck, indeed. I think it’s fair to say we’re surrounded by now.” Artemis speculated. “You’re lucky we crossed paths. At least now we may stand a chance.”

“The more the merrier.” Carver agreed. “As my sister said, every sword counts.”

“Fair enough. Not that my sword will count for much, it seems.” Ser Wesley grumbled, gingerly holding his injured arm against his side while he managed his sword into its sheath.

His wife rolled her eyes and shifted the big shield on her arm. “I can fight for the both of us.”

Maiara could see more than just physical strength in the woman. There was a vibrant fierceness in her eyes and stance; she somehow knew that if Aveline promised something, it would be true no matter what.

“For a while it looked like we were the only ones to survive the darkspawn.” Leandra spoke at last, clearly trying to alleviate some of the tension as they walked. “I’m glad to see that’s not the case.”

“We aren’t free of them yet. You weren’t at Ostagar.” Carver said lowly, his eyes gaining a haunted shadow. “This is just the start.”

Aveline started, whipping her head around to look back at the tall, dark haired youth. “You were there?” She looked between Carver and his sister, her green eyes narrowing in comprehension. “Yes, I see it now. Third company; under Captain Varel. The two of you trained together more often than with others. Now I know why.”

Artemis smiled broadly. “Shocking that a mage makes a good soldier?”

It was clearly a barb aimed at her templar husband, but Aveline managed to return the smile. “Only that you were able to keep from bragging about it for so long.”

Carver snorted and turned away to disguise his laughter, meeting Maiara’s eyes. She shook her head and smiled thoughtfully. They were quite the group now, it seemed.

“Aveline,” Leandra ventured quietly, walking beside the red haired soldier and her husband. “Since you were at Ostagar, you must have seen how the army was defeated.”

Maiara clenched her fists, feeling anger bubbling in her chest when she thought of what they’d suffered at the ancient fortress.

Aveline’s response did not disappoint her; she felt the very same rage in the taller woman’s voice. “We fell to betrayal; not the darkspawn. This arm of the horde will _not_ have the same advantage.”

Mythal shadow our steps and keep us safe from harm. Maiara could already tell that she would be doing a lot of praying. They’d need all the help they could get.

* * *

 

Aveline and Ser Wesley had at first tried going north, to Denerim, to complete the templar’s mission. Apparently it was fairly cut off by the time they’d made it to the Highway and they’d had no choice but to head east in an attempt to go around the horde. Unfortunately the roaming bands of darkspawn on the fringes of the dark army had pushed them further and further south until they’d run into Maiara and the Hawkes.

“It sounds like we would have been screwed either way, then.” Artemis lamented. “We have no choice but to keep heading towards Gwaren.”

“Gwaren?” Aveline questioned. “That’s… not a bad plan, actually. We can catch a ship headed for Denerim from there.”

“Lucky you.” Artemis groaned to herself.

Maiara smiled, but Aveline must not have heard the mage complaining, for she focused her attention on her next.

“And you, Warden?” She said, not bothering to hide the curiosity in her tone. “You can’t have been the only survivor of your order.”

The elf shook her head. “As it so happens, I am not. A few of my comrades survived. They are well ahead of the horde, I’m afraid. I will not have an easy time getting back to them.”

Aveline nodded in understanding. “I can’t imagine you will. So will you be joining us in Denerim?”

That was something she’d have to consider. Originally she’d hoped that she’d find signs of a Dalish camp the further they got from the main roads. With how things appeared to be going, however, it didn’t seem likely.

“Perhaps.” Was all she said in response. She could sense more darkspawn ahead.

* * *

 

They encountered more darkspawn throughout the day. Small swarms, creeping over and around the hills like dark vermin, screeching their horrid cries to signal their attacks. It was easier with Aveline helping them. While Maiara and Carver did well enough for keeping the monsters off Artemis and the others, Aveline was like a wall against the spawn. She held them off long enough for one of Artemis’s spells to take them down, or for Maiara or Carver to come to her aid. Her presence made all the difference in their battles and Maiara was grateful for the change of pace.

She was still starving, of course. If they didn’t come upon an opportunity to hunt soon, she’d go through her meager rations in just another day. Aveline and her husband didn’t seem to be faring much better. The man was gaunt from more than just the sickness coursing through his veins. They likely hadn’t eaten in days.

They’d just cleaved through another wave of darkspawn. There were more remains on the road, so Maiara was sure they were near a homestead of some kind. Artemis had been quietly picking through the remains all day and had found little in terms of food or monetary value.

“We can’t keep this up for much longer.” Carver said, looking over their most recent field of battle with jaded eyes. “We need food and rest.”

Maiara nodded numbly, feeling the gnawing hunger as it struggled to overwhelm her other senses. She knew she was beyond exhausted by now; even if they did have time for rest, she couldn’t help but lie awake, extending her senses and waiting for even the slightest pull on her tainted blood. If she wasn’t able to give a warning, they might not survive the next darkspawn wave. They needed her to be watchful; there was no time for sleep.

Wesley was slowing them down. Even with Aveline picking up the slack and helping in the fight, her husband was nearly too weak to walk on his own. He was relying on Leandra and Artemis most of the time, much to his displeasure. Maiara wondered how long ago he must have contracted the Taint. It had certainly taken its time with her, after all. It was unfortunate that she knew so little about the condition that had led to her becoming a Warden.

Carver was still talking to her, but she was having trouble focusing on his words. It was all she could do to keep herself standing at this point. She was all tense and waiting to jump at the next fight. The buzzing in her blood had faded to a dull vibration in the background of her senses, but she couldn’t help worrying about its near absence.

“Maker…”

She jerked her head up at the softly whispered word. Not far in the distance, they could make out dark smoke from a largescale fire. Stone buildings marked a town where the smoke hailed from and a dry wind brought the scent of burning meat and hair their way. Even just a little farther along the road there were bodies left to rot where they’d dropped, leaving a most grisly trail to lead the travelers into town.

“Hold a moment.” Artemis motioned for them to stop and move off the path of the road.

As they took cover in the brush, Maiara heard something she hadn’t been listening for; laughter, loud and raucous from the direction of town. And screams.

Horrified, she turned to Artemis and saw the mage had a murderous look in her eyes. The human woman nodded at her when she made the connection and gripped her staff tightly.

The fiends that had attacked the town ahead and had not yet finished despoiling the town were not darkspawn, but men.

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh... I swear I will finish this. I've just been having a bit of a bad year and no ambition to write or draw. I'll be muuuuuch slower to update this year.


	36. Days Are Numbered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maiara's journey with her human allies comes to an end.

\---------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 22nd

\---------------------------

As much as Maiara admired her current company, she couldn’t help but wish for someone else to be crouched in the bushes beside her. Their little clutch of warriors and noncombatants had been sitting in the shade of the trees, obscured from the road for a couple of hours now. She’d be bored to death if she weren’t so anxious.

They’d heard the humans who’d attacked the village come by on patrol a few times, chatting amiably about the horror and destruction they’d sewn. It was so easy to make it look like darkspawn and they were taking advantage of the chaos the defeat at Ostagar had left in its wake. There was no king, only the regent; he was too busy in Denerim leading the hunt on Grey Wardens. So their little bandit group was free to do as it pleased, so long as no army came their way. They’d even mowed through darkspawn during their tour of debauchery.

Maiara had wanted to rush out into the road and beat them to death with her bare hands. Obviously that would have been a poor tactic, since she was already weak from hunger and exhaustion and the villains were apparently well catered to. They’d raided the village, killing whomever they couldn’t fuck, and taking what they wanted from the homes of their victims. They were preparing to move onto the next village, but they still had food and loot to pack. The screams Maiara had heard earlier had likely been the last of their victims meeting their sorry end.

A loud sigh drew her attention to Artemis, who was almost as eager to be at the bandits’ throats. Carver had had to hold her back, whispering urgently that she’d get their mother killed if she didn’t keep herself in check. The mage had seethed angrily and thrown herself to the ground in defeat. She’d spent the last hour drawing squiggling lines in the dirt and muttering to herself under her breath.

The behavior obviously worried Wesley and Aveline, but not so much Leandra and Carver. Maiara watched the dark haired mage as she repeated the same design over and over again and wondered if perhaps it was some kind of training exercise in patience.

After the latest patrol had turned back towards the village, Artemis had crept out into the road, running her hands through the dirt while watching for any sign of the enemy’s return. Maiara thought she was making the same design in the road, but she couldn’t see from her vantage point.

“What’s she doing?” She kept her voice lowered in a whisper, aiming the question at Carver.

His vibrant blue eyes met hers and she was surprised to see him smiling. “Laying a trap.”

Maiara frowned in confusion. It didn’t look like any trap she’d ever seen. It just looked like the mage was drawing in the dirt.

“It’s a glyph of paralysis,” Wesley added tiredly after a moment’s study. “It’s a rather simple glyph to transcribe, I’ve been told.” The templar squinted and raised himself a little higher from the ground for a better look. “Although… I haven’t seen one quite like that.”

After a few minutes of etching the strange design into the ground, Artemis returned with a triumphant grin.

“Those bastards are in for a nasty surprise when they walk by again.” She announced cheerfully. “It’ll blow them away, I promise.”

Maiara frowned at that turn of phrase. It sounded suspiciously like something Nereus had said in regards to a nasty spell he’d used on a group of bandits.

 _Can terrible jokes be a human bloodline thing?_ Maybe it was just mages. They all seemed a little off.

Aveline was shaking her head. “How do we even know they’ll come back? You heard them; they’re breaking camp and then burning the evidence to the ground.”

Artemis’s smile widened. For some reason, Maiara was reminded of a cat.

“Oh, I’ll be drawing them back. But-” she stood and dusted dirt from her trousers. “Before that, I need to get you guys ready.”

“Ready for- Oh!” Maiara gasped as the ground beneath them suddenly lit with a brilliant blue glow. The scribbles Artemis had been laying out were pulsing with light around them.

Artemis nodded in satisfaction. “Not quite on Dad or Beth’s level, but it’ll do.” She took another look around before stepping back out onto the road, carefully watching her step. “When it happens, you’ll know. When it does, we’ll have twenty seconds to take them out – if we’re lucky.”

Maiara wanted to ask what she meant, but Artemis seemed to be on a roll and she was already jogging up the road towards the decimated village. Her form rounded a bend and she was gone, leaving them cowering in the bushes and anxiously awaiting her return.

So they waited, nervous and itching for something to happen. Maiara felt better than she did before for some reason. The elf imagined it must have something to do with the glyph the mage had transcribed around them. When the light had flowed over her she’d felt encased in such warmth and security, she’d almost been able to forget about her discomfort. Almost.

Leandra, Wesley, and Brutus had crept back a ways, leaving Maiara with Aveline and Carver nearest to the road. It was quite a bit darker now and Maiara could just barely make out the design scribed into the dirt of the road; she doubted anyone walking by would notice it at all.

Just as she was beginning to worry, she heard the sound of hurried steps coming from the direction of the bandits. Loud, heaving gasps and the scrape of feet slipping in the dirt with the sound of many pairs of feet pounding the road behind them. Maiara caught sight of Artemis running down the road, looking back over her shoulder in fear; until the mage looked directly at their hiding spot and smiled broadly. She ran past them, skirting around the trap she’d laid before crying out and dramatically dropping to the ground.

The bandits were right on her trail, too, charging around the corner just as she fell and barely slowing their steps as they advanced on her position. The mage feigned injury and crawled backwards, her eyes never leaving the men. If Maiara didn’t know better, if she didn’t have Carved kneeling at her side with such confidence in his eyes, she’d truly believe in Artemis’s fear.

“Stay back!” Artemis cried, holding a hand out towards the men, panic lacing the hidden strength in her voice.

The men laughed and confidently walked towards her. “Now, pretty thing, that’s no way to act around such fine folk as us. We’re gonna treat you real nice, aren’t we boys?”

Their reply was cut short, as the first man triggered the glyph. Maiara watched as light and wind rushed in an explosion and coated the men in glowing rings, rooting them in place.

Carver and Aveline were moving beside her and then she was rushing out, roaring as she heaved her blade with her and bringing it crashing into the nearest bandit. From how very still they stood, she’d almost expected them to shatter like ice under her strength, but instead she was met with the usual heavy resistance as the body crumpled beneath her strike. It was a little jarring, but she couldn’t stop moving. She was spinning, her head turning ahead of her movements, keeping an eye out for her allies as she sliced into another paralyzed body, removing limbs and heads as she moved. Around her she could hear the damage being dealt by Carver, Aveline, and Artemis. She watched as one body exploded into flame, only to be struck by Carver and thrown to the ground in two pieces.

Before they’d made it through all of them, the spell’s effect was lifted and the men were moving again, but they were slow and confused. As the realization of their situation dawned on them, the men panicked and moved instead to run away from the woman they’d been so assertively chasing. They didn’t get far before they were struck down with lightning and steel.

In less than a minute, the once empty road was littered with fresh bodies, many of them left unrecognizable from the damage.

Maiara was shocked that it had gone by so quickly and easily. The paralysis glyph was incredibly useful – and terrifying. If there were ever an enemy mage that thought to lay such a trap for them… she wondered how she could fight against something she couldn’t foresee.

Artemis was picking through what was left of the bodies. Maiara detested the practice of looting the dead, but she could see the use for it. The men carried coin enough, but some of them had impressive weapons and armor. Well, pieces of armor, at least. It wouldn’t hurt to scavenge a little.

“The dead don’t mind much.” Artemis had told her when she’d first said something. “It’s either us or the darkspawn. I’d rather it be us.”

Maiara found more coin than she’d ever handled before between just a couple of the bandits. One of them had been carrying around a half-eaten cheese wedge. She’d quickly scarfed it down while moving onto the next, taking what she could reasonably carry and leaving the rest.

After a few more minutes of checking the bodies, Artemis gave the all clear.

“Get ready. They may not be suspicious yet, but our window of opportunity is closing.” She explained hastily. Turning to her mother and Ser Wesley, she added, “Wait here. The ones left in the village shouldn’t be much trouble, but just in case… if we’re not back in an hour, you need to find another road.”

Leandra grasped her daughter’s hand tightly. “Please, don’t take Carver with you.”

“Mother!” Carver groaned.

Artemis shook her head. “I’m sorry, but we need everyone if we’re going to succeed. If it looks like we’re all going to die a horrible death, I promise I’ll send him back with his tail between his legs.”

Maiara watched Carver roll his eyes before he started up the road towards the village. Smiling slightly, she walked with him, hearing Artemis and her mother arguing while Aveline spoke with her husband.

“Can you believe her?” Carver grumbled under his breath. “As if we’d have made it this far with me staying behind!”

She couldn’t help but agree with him. While she understood the concern of a mother, he was a warrior. He was only fulfilling his duty. Just as she was.

“Your sister knows she needs you. That’s why she chose to stay behind so much of the time.” Maiara said quietly, hearing footsteps that signaled Artemis and Aveline joining them.

Carver’s lips drew into a frown. “Yes, well… let’s get this over with.” He looked over his shoulder. “I take it you have a plan, Sister.”

Artemis jogged a little to catch up with them. “I only got a quick look about when I was luring them out, but we can sneak in through some gaps in the side of the wall. It’s darker now, so we can creep up between the houses and flank whoever’s left. Providing they’re all still gathered in the marketplace.”

"It would be nice if every group of bandits were so disorganized," Aveline said, hefting the shield off her back as she walked.

"If only, if only." Artemis agreed.

The four of them quiet down as the low wall circling the town comes into view. They silently creep into the woods and follow Artemis to the gap she spoke of. A low orange light illuminated the edges of the alleys and Maiara was able to see bonfires in the market square. There were eight men walking around the square; some were caring for weapons, chatting, and packing things up in a wagon cart. She could hear them talking clear as day and it was obvious that they were beginning to grow suspicious.

“No sign of them coming up the road, boss. It’s been a while. You figure they got distracted with the girl?”

The man overseeing everything was cradling a wicked battleax and glaring down at the younger man addressing him.

“I knew we shouldn’t have bothered with her,” he growled out. “Too much time wasted. We should move before any ‘spawn find us.” He looked up at the sky, observing the moon. “Five more minutes. If there’s no sign of them, we go. They can catch up for all I care.”

Artemis rolled her eyes, tapping on Maiara’s shoulder for her to follow and motioning for Carver and Aveline to stay put. The two of them crept around the houses, staying close to the shadows as they made their way around the town. Five minutes must have passed in the time it took for them to take their positions, because the bandit leader was shouting for the men to finish up so they could leave.

“And while they’re busy doing that,” Artemis murmured, stepping up to the edge of the home they were hiding beside. She raised her staff, closing her eyes as she concentrated. Opening her eyes, she thrust her staff towards the bandits and shouted, “ _Inserofulmentis!_ ”

Maiara had seen her lightning spells before and while they were always impressive, this one was more so. It was like the paralysis trap she’d set. The magic leapt from one startled man to another, filling the air with a wave of screams. Several of them were stunned, collapsing to the ground under the attack. They weren’t dead, though, as they were already struggling to rise and drawing weapons. Maiara saw Aveline and Carver rushing out from their cover as the bandits turned towards Maiara and Artemis.

Maiara dove past the mage and into the square, swinging her sword into the first of the bandits to rise. He crumpled easily under her attack and she was already moving onto the next man. This one was prepared, but still weakened by the lightning. He went down within seconds, but Maiara was forced away from her next target by the leader and his ax.

The man snarled at her like an animal, bringing his massive ax down with impressive force. Maiara shouted wordlessly and pushed back with her blade, shoving him away and dancing back out of his reach. The human eyed her angrily, his hair standing on end making him look crazed as he lunged forward for another attack. Maiara hadn’t been struck by lightning, but she was still too tired and hungry to fend him off with her full strength. After they clashed together a few times, both of them neglecting to hit the other, she looked to her companions, hoping they were faring better than she was.

Carver and Aveline were busy picking off the other men and Artemis hadn’t made herself known since the last attack. Maiara could only surmise that it had taken a lot out of her and that she wouldn’t be able to help.

Quickly bringing her focus back to the task at hand, she turned back in time for the man’s fist to hit her square in the jaw. The hit staggered her, causing her to stumble back. She only barely fended off another swing of his ax before she ended up on the ground. Reacting on instinct, she kicked at his legs, causing him to fall beside her. She rolled out of the way, dragging her sword with her and watching as he did the same. They were back to facing each other, but she wasn’t alone any more.

Aveline had flanked him, crashing into him with her shield before he’d fully gained his footing. He flew backwards from the tackle, dropping his ax and rolling to the ground, clutching his ribs. Maiara strode over to him, kicking him over onto his back and irritating his newest injury.

“Knife-eared cunt!” He spat in between gasps of pain. “I’ll kill you! _I’ll kill you!_ ”

The thuggishly human insult made her blood boil. “Su an’banal i’ma.” She gritted out, bringing her sword down on his throat.

Turning away from the corpse, she saw Carver supporting his sister as they walked back into the square. Aveline was checking the homes; a hopeless attempt at finding survivors.

She slowly walked up to the Hawke siblings, suddenly feeling every ache and annoyance in her body now that the fight had ended.

“Are you alright?” She asked, looking at Artemis with concern.

The mage nodded and grinned. “Peachy! Sorry, it’s just that I thought we could use a little more juice, so I _maaaay_ have put the last of my mana into that. It always leaves me a little weak. No big deal.”

Carver snorted at his sister’s explanation. “She means that she exhausted herself to the point of collapse. I _should_ be carrying her right now, but someone is feeling a little stubborn.”

“If my feet leave the ground, I swear I will kiss you all over your sweet face, baby brother.” Artemis threatened cheerfully while Carver made a disgusted face. “So! Who gets to tell Mother and Ser Husband that we’re not dead?”

* * *

 

Carver had left his sister with Maiara and gone to retrieve the others. Aveline gave up her search; she and Maiara had started dragging the bodies of the villagers over to the fire to be burned. When Carver returned, he helped with the rest while Leandra went through the loot and food the bandits had acquired. Wesley and Brutus stayed with Artemis as she recovered her strength.

There were a _lot_ of bodies to deal with. There’d been a few dozen villagers and each of them had met a brutal end at the hands of the bandits. Some were difficult to look at, particularly the women. Maiara felt sick, but she had to help. Humans burned their dead, she knew. Honestly, the pyre would be easier than digging graves. The smell didn’t help, though.

As the last of the bodies burned into the night, the templar offered a prayer for the departed.

“Draw your last breath, my friends.

Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky.

Rest at the Maker’s right hand,

And be Forgiven.”

Maiara watched respectfully, but her mind was elsewhere. Humans burned their dead. The Dalish buried their own, planting a tree over the grave. The ceremony beforehand involved a symbolic pyre, but they did not burn their bodies to ash, stripping them of everything they were.

 _Tamlen…_ She’d been holding the tears back for quite some time and she wasn’t going to give into crying again. Not yet, at least. She couldn’t help but think of the last moments she’d spent with her clan, all of them mourning their loss. Maiara had mourned her failure to protect him. That night she’d still believed she could save him if only she could look for him. She’d believed for so long… but she knew now. She knew that Duncan had spoken the truth.

Looking at Wesley, she knew he wouldn’t live long. He only had another couple days in him at the most before… she _hoped_ he died. She had a feeling that there were worse things than death and she strongly believed the Blight would have something worse in store. She’d seen the blight wolves, and whatever the bear in the ruins had turned into. She didn’t want to see that happen to a person.

 

It was an unfortunate stroke of luck for them that the bandits had gathered so much food and supplies from the sacked town. Maiara knew it was tasteless and horrid of them, but they’d eaten well after doing their best to care for the poor former residents. She’d slept fitfully as the others traded watch, but she didn’t sense the darkspawn even once that night. The next morning, they’d packed what they could from the bandits’ spoils and moved on.

Unfortunately their respite from the darkspawn did not last.

 

 

\--------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 23rd

\--------------------------

 

 

They were pushed further and further south as they went along. The waves of darkspawn forces seemed endless. They’d been fighting small groups of the monsters for the last hour, with barely any time to rest in between each bout. The further they traveled, the worse it got. Turning back wasn’t an option any more. It was taking everything they had to keep the wretched creatures from breaking their ranks and attacking Leandra and Wesley.

Rejuvenated as she’d felt after food and rest, Maiara’s strength was flagging. Her actions felt stiff and repetitive as she struck down another skeletal darkspawn. Luckily the majority of the creatures seemed fairly weak and went down easily. Every once in a while a particularly strong one would rear its head, drawing their attention from the bulk of the grunts. Any that slipped past were quickly dealt with via a bolt of energy from Artemis.

The wave had receded again, but Maiara could feel the darkness buzzing in her blood, just out of reach. She let out a tired breath, stretching and inspecting herself for injuries. A few cuts here and there; definitely a lot of future bruises. Her armor was going to need some heavy repairs in the near future.

“You doing okay?” Artemis asked, her blue eyes looking dimmer than usual.

Maiara nodded solemnly. “As much as can be expected.”

The mage smiled, somehow managing to look cheerful while tired. “Just imagine all of the tales that will be told about your heroic exploits! The bards will sing of your battles against the blighted horde. Plus, I’ll be sure to tell _everyone_ that you arm wrestled an ogre and won.”

The whole thing was so ridiculous and she was so exhausted, that Maiara couldn’t help but laugh. “None of that is even slightly close to truth.”

Artemis shrugged and patted her on the shoulder. “No, but it sounds fun, doesn’t it?”

Maiara smiled and shook her head. “I could live a hundred years and be perfectly pleased to never see an ogre again.”

“Hm, come to think of it…” Artemis said thoughtfully. “So could I!”

The woman was truly something. Maiara couldn’t imagine surviving her ordeal after Ostagar without her. She owed the Hawkes a great debt.

Together they crested yet another hill, this one affording them a view of the devastated landscape. Somehow, the darkspawn had gotten much, much further from Ostagar. The Blight was devouring Ferelden day by day and it seemed that nothing would stop it.

A chilling sensation swept through her body as Maiara heard a most familiar and unwelcome sound. The ground trembled beneath her feet as she wildly looked about her surroundings, searching for the source of the terrifying roar she’d heard just seconds ago. Her blood was buzzing and pulling her attention in every direction, making it difficult to think and focus.

“What was that?” Aveline asked worriedly as their party instinctively huddled together.

Massive, curling horns came into view from around a rock formation as the deadly source finally revealed itself. The larger than life darkspawn ogre roared madly as it set its eyes on their group. Its tremendous stride brought it barreling towards them so quickly that they barely had time to react.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me!" Artemis shouted in disbelief. "I am  _so_ ogre this bullshit!"

"Really?!"

“Spread out, quickly! Don’t let it get close!” Maiara shouted, her heart pounding so hard and fast she was amazed that the words got out. She was terrified. The image of what had happened to the Fereldan king kept flashing to the forefront of her mind as her legs moved, bringing her closer to the monster of her nightmares.

The ogre gave another mighty cry and Maiara bellowed to match it, raising her sword as she ran head on against it. Before she could strike, it swatted her out of the way and she felt herself fly through the air, her grip on her sword slackening as it dropped to the ground. She hit a rock and cried out when she felt something crack. Her vision blurred for a moment, but she gritted her teeth and moved to her feet, searching for the ogre as she did so.

It wasn’t after her, having already dealt with her during its charge. Everyone had scattered, as she’d ordered. Unfortunately this led to the massive darkspawn cornering the slowest of them. Leandra had fallen at some point and Brutus stood defiantly over her, barking and snapping at the monster that threatened his family.

She could see Artemis and Carver, running towards their mother, but too far away to help. Aveline, too, was nowhere near the fallen woman and the hound.

Just as the ogre was swiping its hand down, Wesley appeared in front of Leandra and Brutus, bringing his injured arm up, sword in hand, and taking a swing at the fiend. The ogre snarled and stumbled in pain, before lunging for the templar, grabbing him in its large clawed hand.

 _It’s happening again._ Maiara thought in dismay, feeling as thought time had slowed for the grisly display. She was too far from her sword and something in her chest burned and ached when she moved. She could hear people screaming and see magic flying through the air towards the monster, but it was too late.

The ogre slammed Wesley into the ground, flinging the armored man about like a limp doll before tossing him aside and roaring triumphantly. It turned its horned head back to Leandra and it took one step forward.

That was as far as it got.

Maiara felt a rush of wind whirl about the area as the sound of thunder rang out. A bolt of lightning struck the ogre, causing it to stagger back and away from Leandra. The creature looked about for the source, only to be struck by Carver when it turned. It cried out in pain as it tried to focus on one Hawke sibling at a time, only to be harried by the other.

Feeling horribly useless, Maiara clutched her aching side and pushed herself towards her blade. She lifted the sword, wincing and nearly dropping the blasted thing. Gritting her teeth, she used both hands to lift the steel and moved towards the battle.

Before she even made it within range, she saw Artemis drop her staff as she faced off against the wounded ogre. Panic ran through her when she saw the mage defenseless. She rushed towards the fray, watching as Artemis balled her hands into fists, shouting as she stretched her arms out and then brought them together.

Only, they weren’t together. The air shimmered where her hands should have been, her arms vanishing into _something._

The ogre had stopped.

Maiara saw two phantom fists gripping each of the ogre’s arms, appearing as if out of thin air. She watched, horribly fascinated as down below Artemis gritted her teeth, flinging her arms back with great strength as the ethereal hands grappling the ogre tore it asunder before vanishing into nothing.

The ogre hit the ground a second before the mage, although it was in several pieces and Artemis was, thankfully, whole.

Maiara stumbled forward another few steps before the pain overwhelmed her. She dropped to the ground as gently as she could, but still managed to bang her knees hard into the dirt. She yelped in pain and frustration, curling in on herself for a moment. A moment of rest was all she needed.

* * *

 

When the fog of pain around her mind had abated somewhat, she realized she was lying on her side and had been for some time. The hit from the ogre had hurt her worse than she’d thought. In her pain addled state, she found herself staring up at a beautiful woman with golden eyes and snow white hair that twisted up into majestic horns. Her face was familiar, but different at the same time.

When she no longer felt pain pulsing throughout her whole body, she realized she was awake and the woman in front of her wasn’t an injury induced vision.

“Asha’bellanar,” she breathed in awe, seeing the woman clearly when the witch stepped away from her. “Ma serannas.”

Simply thanking her was not enough, but Maiara was having difficulty comprehending the situation. As she rose to her feet and surveyed the area, she realized she was in the same spot she’d fallen. The ogre was still dead, lying in bloodied pieces, but there were dozens of darkspawn corpses, too. Quite a few were scorched and burned beyond recognition and Maiara had a feeling it hadn’t been Artemis’s magic at work.

Leandra was clinging tightly to Carver and Artemis was standing stoically beside Aveline, who knelt beside her fallen husband. Maiara couldn’t help but feel guilty in a way. She’d failed to stop the ogre during its initial assault and she hadn’t taken its attention for more than a moment. If she’d done more, Wesley may not have needed to defend Leandra as he had.

“He still would have died.”

Maiara looked up at the dry voice and was surprised to see the witch still standing there. For some reason she kept expecting her fantastical appearance to be nothing more than a dream. She didn’t look as she’d appeared to them in the Wilds. Before she’d looked lean and haggard, as any human dwelling in the swamplands would appear. Now she looked tall, voluptuous, and powerful. Her leather and armor clad body was anything but old and haggard and her face, while the same, somehow looked more like her daughter’s. Maiara couldn’t help but wonder which was her true form.

Her golden eyes were watching her, reading her silence as easily as one read a book.

“I know.” Maiara said at last, in response to her assessment of Wesley. He’d been sick with the Blight. He must have known he didn’t have long. _It was better this way._ She tried to believe that, but she could still see how the ogre had crushed him and thrown him about like he was nothing. She shivered.

The others must have taken notice of their short conversation. Artemis had left Aveline to her grief and was quickly moving in their direction. Leandra watched her daughter, but did nothing to stop her.

“Thank goodness you’re alright,” the mage said concernedly. “I thought that thing had done you in, too.”

Maiara looked from Artemis to the witch at her back. “It would have, if not for the aid of one so powerful.”

Artemis nodded in agreement, her blue eyes lit up excitedly as she looked over their savior. “Oh, indeed! Maiara, you missed it! We were _surrounded_ by darkspawn on all sides! It looked like we were done, for sure. Then a great high dragon appeared and attacked them! Burned most of ‘em to ash and the rest fled! _Darkspawn_ , running scared! Can you believe it? Then the dragon turned into this woman and well, I can hardly believe it myself. She went straight over to you and said she’d take care of you. Now, I’m not about to argue with a dragon, but I was a _little_ worried for a moment.”

Maiara looked back to Asha’bellanar to see the old woman rolling her eyes. “I am as invested in the Grey Wardens as any of us. We’ll need all the help we can get if we hope to survive this Blight.”

The younger mage wasn’t put off for a moment. “Well, I’m glad you happened to be passing by! I like this Warden. And I like you. Where did you learn to turn into a dragon?”

The witch smiled coyly. “Perhaps I _am_ a dragon. If so, count yourself lucky the smell of burning darkspawn does nothing for the appetite.”

“Lucky we are, it seems. Although you _did_ go out of your way to roast those darkspawn for us. Thank you, by the way.” Artemis was talking so quickly that Maiara wasn’t sure if it was nerves or enthusiasm that spurred her on.

Golden eyes crinkled at the edges as Asha’bellanar smiled before turning away. “If you wish to flee the darkspawn, you should know that you’re going the wrong way. Do try to keep the Warden safe from now on.”

She had all of their attention now as she deliberately walked away from them. Maiara could hardly believe that she’d go through such tremendous effort to help them and then leave. Then again, one such as her was not predictable.

“So you’re just going to leave us here?” Carver asked incredulously, stepping forward and pushing his mother behind him.

The witch stopped and looked back at them over her shoulder. “And why not?” Turning on her heel, she strode back towards them, coming to a stop before Carver. “As I surveyed the horde I spotted a most curious sight. A mighty ogre vanquished! Who could perform such a feat? But now my curiosity is sated and you are safe. For the moment. Is that not enough?”

“In for a bit, in for a sovereign, I say!” Artemis chirped, drawing the witch’s attention from her brother. “You think you could teach _me_ to be a dragon? The way this world is going, that could come in pretty useful.”

To Maiara’s ever growing shock, Asha’bellanar laughed. It was a true laugh, throaty and pleased to be heard. The witch smiled and turned her full attention to the audacious mage with blue eyes.

“I dare say it is!” She agreed readily. “Such a clever tongue, for a mage. Strangely familiar, if that can be believed.” Taking a step closer to Artemis, her words took on a curious tone. “Tell me, clever child… how do you intend to outrun the Blight?”

Before she could answer, Carver had clearly mustered up his courage to speak again. “We’re going to Kirkwall; in the Free Marches.”

“Kirkwall?” She sounded surprised. “My… that is quite the voyage you’re planning. So far, simply to flee the darkspawn.”

Artemis shrugged and tapped her staff against the ground. “If you have a better suggestion, I’d like to hear it. I’ve heard a rumor saying the Deep Roads are vacant now.”

The witch laughed, her golden eyes sparkling as she looked at Artemis. “Oh, _you_ I like!”

With a cryptic smile, she turned away, muttering to herself thoughtfully. Maiara heard her whispering, but doubted the others could make it out as well. “Is it fate or chance? I can never decide.”

Turning back to face their ragtag group, Asha’bellanar had a curious look in her eyes as she looked from Maiara to Artemis. “It appears fortune smiles on us both today. I may be able to help you yet.”

Artemis watched her carefully. “Mysterious dragon helps heroes out of the goodness of her heart? I’m not buying it. There must be a catch.”

There seemed to be no end to the witch’s mirth whenever the dark haired mage spoke. Speaking over her laughter, she said, “There is _always_ a catch! _Life’s_ a catch! I suggest you catch it while you can.”

Carver sidled up to his sister and tried to keep his voice low. “Should we even trust her? We don’t even know what she is.”

“Don’t you?” The witch asked blithely, smiling when the young man flinched.

Maiara waited a moment, watching the legendary witch as she observed them all in turn. She could reveal her, herself. Still, it would be strange to do so with her clan’s beliefs. She knew that humans had their own legends, as Daveth had so colorfully exclaimed back at Ostagar and upon their meeting in the Wilds.

“I know what she is.” Aveline’s voice joined them, saving her from her choice; the warrior’s normally proud voice sounded shattered and cold. She still sat in the dirt beside her husband’s body, but it was clear she’d been listening all along as she added, “She’s the Witch of the Wilds.”

Something like delight passed over her face as the witch in question smiled. “Some have called me that. Also Flemeth, Asha’bellanar, an old hag who talks too much.” She laughed deprecatingly. “Does it matter? I offer you this: I will get your group past the horde in exchange for a simple delivery in a place not far out of your way. Would you do this for a ‘Witch of the Wilds’?”

Maiara wondered what she could possibly ask of them. A quest for Asha’bellanar wouldn’t likely be something to be taken lightly. Then again, human society didn’t see her the same. They called her “Flemeth” and told many stories about her. She’d heard Daveth’s stories and they were not flattering. She wondered what Morrigan called her mother.

Artemis was clearly debating with herself before answering. She looked at each of them in turn and sighed, finally giving her merry mask a rest as she asked quietly, “Should we trust her?”

Maiara waited a moment before giving her view. “My clan has had dealings with Asha’bellanar in the past. As have I, recently. She is honorable.”

The Hawke’s listened and had differing stares in reaction. After a moment’s contemplation, Carver added his own opinion. “I can’t say I’m not suspicious, but do we have any choice? We’ll never make it past the darkspawn on our own.”

Artemis nodded in agreement and sighed. “Well, that’s two in so far. But I’d like everyone’s opinion. I can’t make this decision for all of us.”

Turning towards their newer companion, she steadied herself before calling to her. “Aveline? I’m sorry, I know this isn’t easy-”

“Your brother is right.” The redhead said softly, just loud enough to hear. “Look how things have gone. We’re all dead if we don’t take her help.”

She’d laid her husband out as gently as she could after the battle. His armor was horribly misshapen in some areas and marred with blood and dirt. Still, it was obvious she couldn’t just leave him as he’d been.

Artemis nodded quickly before looking to her mother. Leandra sighed, stepping around Carver to take her daughter’s hands in her own. “We’re all in your hands, Arte. You’ve made your decision already.”

Maiara’s mind flashed to the scene of the phantom fists tearing the ogre apart. Had that really been Artemis’s magic? She’d never seen something so powerful before. It had looked like something from the Beyond.

The mage smiled at her mother, squeezing her hands before turning back to face Asha’bellanar. “Well, I guess that settles it then. Asha’bellanar, Flemeth, whoever you are… you have a deal.”

The Witch of the Wilds smiled, but didn’t show her teeth. “Glad to hear it. For your task…” Her golden eyes flicked to Maiara for just a moment. “By the time you arrive, you’ll find a clan of Dalish elves outside of Kirkwall.” Procuring an amulet seemingly out of nowhere, she held the necklace out to Artemis. “Deliver this amulet to their Keeper, Marethari. Do as she asks with it and any debt between us is paid in full.”

Maiara’s heart skipped a beat. “They went to Kirkwall?”

While she’d known her clan had planned to leave Ferelden, she hadn’t known exactly where Marethari intended on taking them. They’d always stayed in Ferelden before, but the Blight was too dangerous to ignore. To so suddenly hear news of their future whereabouts… she shouldn’t get her hopes up.

 _I may not survive and surely they’ll move on by the time the Blight has ended._ But would they return to Ferelden? Or would the kingdom be laid to ruin before then? She wondered and worried.

“They are on their way, da’len.” Asha’bellanar said softly, bringing her out of her mind for a moment. She looked at her almost gently and Maiara wondered when humans had started looking at her with such eyes; if the witch was truly human at all.

Maiara could sense other eyes upon her and she smiled sadly as she turned to face the Hawkes. “It’s my clan.”

Artemis nodded in understanding. “Well, I guess this must be what they call ‘fate’ right?”

The elf laughed halfheartedly. “It certainly must be.”

What else could she say? They were going to part ways sooner than she’d anticipated. They’d be off across the Waking Sea and… well, she didn’t know what would happen to her. The deal with Asha’bellanar was for their transport and safety, not hers.

“Do you… want us to say anything? When we meet them.” Carver asked awkwardly, sensing her mood change.

Maiara pondered it for a moment. It was thoughtful of him to ask. “I… there is so much I wish to convey, but so few ways to say it.”

There was so much pain within her at the sense of her loss. Her loss of Tamlen, of her role, of her clan… then of everything at Ostagar. Now she was losing her new friends, as well.

“Just… just tell her I miss them. And I’m sorry.” She said at last, her own feelings failing to deliver words to her.

Artemis nudged her shoulder. “You sure you don’t wanna say something a little more elvish?”

Maiara felt a smile tug at her lips. “You wouldn’t remember it. No offense intended.”

“I’ll remember.” Carver said quickly. “I will.”

“Maybe say it slowly for him, just in case.” His sister teased lightly.

Maiara looked between the two of them, so eager to do something so important for her. It made the loneliness she felt in her soul lighten somewhat. For everything she’d suffered, she felt glad to have met them along the way.

“If you insist. If you forget, you have a fallback.” She replied, still smiling. “Mi’nas’sal’inan.” She paused and repeated it a little slower, drawing out the enunciation.

“Mi-nahs-sahl-inahn.” Carver repeated softly, his eyes narrowing on her face as she spoke. “Mi’nas’sal’inan.”

It was a little rough, but it sounded right. It hurt to hear it said aloud, but she couldn’t help but smile at how earnest he was to learn.

“What?” He asked, self-consciously. “Am I saying it wrong?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. I think you’ve picked it up just fine.”

“Oh. Well, good.” There was relief in his voice, but he looked unsure. “What does it mean?”

“In a sense, it is what I said before; ‘I miss you.’ There is deep meaning to it. Marethari will understand.” She tried to sound neutral, but her voice cracked at the end. “Ma serannas, da’mis. You don’t have to remember, but I appreciate the effort.”

“Da’mis?” Artemis piped up. “Aw, is that a cute nickname?”

Carver’s cheeks flared red at his sister’s comment. “Do you have to ask that?”

There was something mischievous in the mage’s eyes as she smiled at her brother. “I think I do. Maiara, what’s that mean?”

She was really going to miss them. “If you remember, you can ask Marethari.”

“Say hello to your new nickname, baby brother.”

There was a long suffering sigh from Carver, who was actively avoiding looking at Maiara now.

“If you’re quite done with your farewells,” Asha’bellanar spoke suddenly, bringing their attention back to reality. “I suggest you make peace with leaving.”

Maiara was brought back to her previous wondering. She hated to ask even more of her, but she didn’t like uncertainties. “What of me? We both know I’m not going to Kirkwall.”

The witch’s keen yellow eyes locked on her then. “No. You are not.”

She shifted uncomfortably under her gaze before asking, “Then what?” She didn’t dare ask more.

 _You’re not leaving me here._ She wouldn’t. After all, she’d said she was invested in her survival. She wouldn’t heal her only to leave her for dead.

“You will be exactly where you need to be.” She said at last, a small coy smile lighting her face.

As vague as it was, just hearing that made her feel better.

“And in exchange?” Maiara asked.

Once more, the witch laughed. “In exchange? Why, you end the Blight, of course!”

Maiara winced. _No pressure._ She nodded.

Artemis placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m going to miss you, Warden.”

“And I will miss you, Artemis.” She replied softly. “I owe you and your family my life. I would not have survived without you.”

“Likewise! Your Warden senses helped a ton. And you’re one fine warrior. Your clan must miss you as much as you miss them.” Artemis stated with great feeling. “I know you can do this. This may sound strange, but I have a good feeling about you. You’ll find the other Wardens and then we can all come home.”

She couldn’t help but blush under the other woman’s assault of praise. “You honor me with your words, falon.”

“Nickname?” Artemis gasped hopefully.

The elf laughed. “It means ‘friend.’”

She could swear the mage was pouting. “Fiiine. I guess I know who your favorite Hawke is.”

Maiara scrunched her face in confusion, but didn’t get a chance to ask what she might mean by that comment.

“You may all think you have the luxury of time,” the witch cut in once more, “but the darkspawn wait for no one. They will return soon and I can only distract them for so long. Your window of opportunity is closing.”

Maiara’s gut clenched. She could feel them on the edge of her awareness, just barely out of reach. They’d swarm them in no time if given the chance.

“Well then,” Carver intoned awkwardly. “I guess this is it.” His blue eyes were serious as he looked down at Maiara with a small smile. “I’m glad we had this chance to travel with you, Maiara. You’re really… an amazing warrior.”

“As are you. Once more, I cannot thank you enough.” She replied earnestly.

“Mi’nas’sal’inan.” He repeated the phrase again and she smiled at his sincerity. “I won’t forget. I promise.”

She could hear Leandra whispering words of encouragement to Aveline behind them. The woman knew they had to leave, but she was loathe to leave her husband behind.

“I know,” she said to Carver. “Ma serannas.”

The redhead’s hushed voice soon rose loud enough for even the humans to hear her.

“Not like this,” she cried. “It wasn’t meant to end like this.”

The commanding voice of Asha’bellanar brooked no disagreement. “ Without an end, there can be no peace.” There was a stillness in the air as she spoke. “It gets no easier. Your struggles have only just begun.”

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, effort. Been workin’ on this baby for a while. Progress~
> 
> Translation Notes:  
> Su an’banal i’ma – “To the Void with you.”  
> Mi’nas’sal’inan. – literally “I feel the knife once more within my soul”; simplified, “I miss you.” With a sense of great sadness and longing.
> 
> As usual, I throw myself to the mercy of Project Elvhen.  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/3553883/chapters/7825850


	37. Another Day, Another Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The main party continues through the Hinterlands on the way to Redcliffe.

\--------------------------

9:30 Dragon, Cloudreach 25th

\--------------------------

* * *

 

Adora

* * *

 

 

The dragon, again. It was either the dragon or the horde. Every night she went to sleep, trying her best to find comfort in thin blankets on the hard ground, she dreamed about monsters. She knew it was a Warden thing. She’d had the talk with Alistair. It still terrified her.

It was dark, but there were fires burning everywhere. She wasn’t sure if it was night or not. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and diseased bodies; it was the scent of death. At times she felt she was in the midst of the great mob, looking up in awe at the fell beast that commanded them all. Other times she was overlooking them all from great heights.

Either way, she felt the draw of the archdemon. It roared above her and the horde cheered, surging around her as they moved. The dragon blasted searing fire from its jagged maw, tinting the scene crimson with its heat. The wretched thunder of its cry shook her to her core and she thrashed wildly in an effort to escape its wrath – and its attention.

* * *

 

 

When she woke, she could feel its horrid gaze, as if it loomed over her still. For a while, all she could do was lie there with her eyes closed, telling herself that it was over and it was morning. She could feel the early dawn light peeking through the tent flap and hitting her right at eyelevel. It was cold, but not unwelcome. The air was clear and crisp, with only a lingering scent of smoke from the campfire.

As her breathing slowly evened out, she opened her eyes and stared up at the weathered canvas tent. She could hear Leliana breathing beside her, still asleep. It was reassuring to have her there beside her every night. For as long as she’d lived sleeping alone, she’d never felt so terrified until becoming a Warden.

* * *

 

When they’d left Lothering, they’d only had a few tents. There weren’t enough materials around town or any in stock at the market for them to acquire more. They’d divided themselves amongst them the best that they could.

“Redheads in that tent, blondes over there, and gorgeous brunette mages over here.” Nereus had decided for them, joking that their hair color was a valid means for division.

Morrigan had, of course, declined his offer and set up her own camp as usual, leaving him to share his space with his cousin.

Sten got a tent all to himself. That suited everyone just fine.

They’d been managing well enough since then. They’d entered the heart of the Hinterlands once they’d started for Redcliffe. It was a beautiful, verdant land full of farms, homesteads, and ancient ruins. The Highway ran through a decent portion, but it had deteriorated so much in some areas that it was easier to stick to the rural roads instead. It had made progress a little slow, but it was worth it for the game alone.

Even with the Blight on their tails, the Hinterlands were filled with wild animals to hunt. Deer, druffalo, rams, and more populated the great forested area. It wasn’t without its dangers, of course. Wolves, bandits, and darkspawn crossed paths with them nearly every day. While it was stressful and terrifying, it was good practice for them to start using their new strategies.

They’d made a lot of headway since Lothering. Fighting beside each other was an exercise in team effort and it was quickly paying off. There were still a few near misses here and there, but mostly they knew how to avoid stabbing and frying each other. They were a work in progress, but it was progress that counted.

* * *

 

Leliana’s breathing shifted ever so slightly and Adora knew she was awake. The noblewoman sat up with a stretch, cracking her back, and letting out a satisfied sigh. Even with a bedroll, the ground was an awful place to sleep. She prayed every day for a bed the next night. So far no luck.

“Did you sleep well?” Leliana asked perceptively in her gentle voice. She knew about the nightmares.

Adora sighed again and nodded. “As well as ever.”

The other redhead rubbed her back soothingly. “It will get better.”

“It will.” She agreed halfheartedly.

_When Howe is dead and the Blight has ended. It will get better._

 

* * *

 

 

When she exited the tent she was hit with the enticing scent of roasting meat. At least half of their party was up and moving about, dealing with the morning chores and preparing to move for the day. Bethany and Nereus were seated by the fire, tending to the ram they were prepping for the day’s meals. Sten was standing a ways off from the heart of camp, cleaning his sword and otherwise ignoring everyone else. She could see Morrigan in her camp nearby, packing up her things. Leif and Alistair were likely still sleeping.

As she was looking about and taking in the sight of the camp, she heard dogs barking and Bodahn’s friendly voice drifting over from his wagon. It looked like Lady and Lucky were playing with Sandal again.

 

They’d found the dwarf and his son, Sandal, under attack from darkspawn just outside of Lothering. Acting quickly, they’d handled the monsters and kept the merchants from harm. Grateful for their assistance, Bodahn had suggested traveling with them and offered a discount on his goods in exchange for their protection. With a little bit of bartering and sharing of information, a bargain was struck and they’d gained an ally.

 

* * *

 

 

“Mmm.” Leliana sighed from beside her. “That smells delicious. Do you think it’s ready yet?”

Adora shrugged and the two of them approached the campfire. “It’s been going since evening. I _hope_ it’s almost ready.” She was ravenous. The evening meal had been filling enough, but it was a new day and she was as hungry as ever.

“Good morning, ladies,” Nereus called from his seat with a smile. “You look well rested. I see you’ve been getting your beauty sleep.”

Adora could practically feel Leliana rolling her eyes. She couldn’t help but smile, both in response to the mage and to her companion. “Thank you, Nereus. And Bethany, you slept well?”

The quiet girl nodded. “As well as ever without the comfort of my bed. Nereus is a better roommate than my brother; he doesn’t snore.”

“Snoring is for imbeciles, not elegant creatures such as ourselves.” Nereus said. “I mean, really. Can you imagine someone who looks like _me_ snoring?”

“Is that not what you’re doing now?” Leliana teased. “Oh, of course. I forgot this is merely how you speak.”

“That’s cold, Sister.” He pretended to pout.

“Anyway,” Adora cut in, dropping to sit beside her fellow Warden. “How is that ram coming along? It looks like it’s had a decent amount prepped already. Did I mention I’m starving?”

Nereus pried his attention away from the two women and focused on the food. “I’d say it’s about done. Most of it is already wrapped and reading to travel; I had Bodahn take care of storing it. I think the rest should be enough to take care of breakfast.”

“Thank the Maker,” Adora sighed dramatically. “Now, how long do I have to wait?”

* * *

 

 

After a warm and filling breakfast – Nereus truly did know his way around spices – they were finally on their way again. Their camp was rather large, but they’d grown adept at packing things up quickly. There had only been one incident with them being attacked at camp, but there would likely be more in the future; they had to be ready to move at a moment’s notice.

Once they’d consulted the maps and headed out, they all fell into small groups and pairs as they travelled the local routes of the Hinterlands.

For once, Adora found herself walking with only Lady at her side. The hound was pestering her for attention with plaintiff whines and slobbery nudges against the hand hanging at her side. The girl just wasn’t in the mood for games, however. She could hear the soft chatter of conversation flowing between their groups and as much as she wished she could join, she made no move to do so. Her gray eyes strayed from one clique to another, watching Nereus chatting amiably with Bethany or Alistair with Leliana and Leif.

She frowned, realizing that even Lady had finally bounded off to harass someone else. She looked back over her shoulder to see the dog prancing happily alongside Sten, who looked completely indifferent to her presence.

Sighing, she turned her attention back to the road, choosing instead to look down rather than at the friendly discourse occurring between her companions. For some reason she found herself rather detesting it all.

 _What is wrong with me?_ She couldn’t help but wonder. Of course she should be happy that they were all getting along. More or less.

As if drawn in by her dark thoughts, Morrigan was at her side.

“Never have I seen such petty jealousy in a girl’s eyes.” The witch said mischievously, keeping her voice low. “You are even more interesting than I believed.”

Adora’s attention snapped to the woman beside her. “I am _not_.”

Morrigan smiled. “Not… what? Interesting? Or jealous?”

“Neither,” she insisted weakly, looking away from her golden gaze. “I have no reason to be.”

“Do you not?” She inquired, unbelieving. “I recall your little party from the Wilds quite well. You and the elf were the only ones worthy of speaking to; although that is hardly a surprise, given the company of men you kept. Even then, I believed the two of you to be uniquely confident in a world that would preferably see you meek and silent.”

She wondered why she would say such things. Morrigan had always gleefully kept to herself before, shirking whatever company had been offered. She’d spoken with Adora and Nereus when they’d approached her, but never before had she gone to someone first. It was unusual and Adora couldn’t help but feel wary.

“I could not help but wonder to myself about you,” the witch continued, keeping her silky voice low and trapped between them. “You are no warrior, clearly. What purpose could have brought you into the Wardens?”

As if she needed reminding that she didn’t belong. Adora squeezed her hands into fists and took a deep breath, trying to calm the pain in her heart.

Perhaps Morrigan sensed something in her posture. “I suppose it matters not, in the end.” Her tone was hasty and dismissive. “Regardless of what events transpired, you are here. One of the last Grey Wardens in Ferleden. And a woman, at that. Does that not make you special?”

She shook her head. “No. I didn’t do anything worthy of being here. I just got lucky.”

“It may be as you say.” The dark haired woman conceded. “Mayhap I see something that you do not. Who can tell but the future?”

“If I somehow survive this madness, it will only be because spite has kept me going.” Adora admitted quietly. “I owe someone a death. I cannot die until I’ve found them.”

Morrigan laughed and her voice sparkled when she spoke. “Truly? Now _that_ I am surprised to hear. I did not take you for the vengeful sort. I am… impressed.”

The compliment somehow made her uncomfortable. Why she’d said such a thing in front of Morrigan of all people, she didn’t understand. It shamed her to admit that the witch was right in her earlier observation. She was jealous. Of what, she did not know, but she felt it twisting in her heart whenever she looked at her companions.

Perhaps the dark feelings were what made her interesting; if so, she didn’t want to be interesting at all. It would be better to not feel at all, if possible. It would be easier, that way.

* * *

 

Leif

* * *

 

 

“So, what can you tell me about this ‘Maker’ I’ve been hearing so much about?”

Leif looked up to see Alistair and Leliana share a look before turning their attention back to him. They’d been going through small talk since breakfast and Leif figured if he was gonna hear about it from someone, he may as well ask them. Leliana said so herself that the Maker had told her to go with them, so it was obviously something that humans took seriously. He knew dwarves were supposed to believe in something about the Stone, but being casteless meant that it didn’t work like that for him. The humans talked about their Maker a lot, though.

“Leif, you’re from Orzammar, right?” Alistair asked. “I suppose they don’t really talk about the Maker there.”

He shrugged. “Guess not. Never heard about that stuff till I came here.”

“As a dwarf, don’t you have your own beliefs?” Leliana wondered. “Not that I wouldn’t be happy to tell you about Andraste and the Maker. I wouldn’t want to impose is all.”

Leif shook his head. “None that work for me back home. The nobles have their talk about the Stone, but according to them, I don’t exist. So it doesn’t matter to me.”

They were both silent for a moment and Leif wondered how much they knew about how things worked in Orzammar. Probably not much. Not that it mattered, with them being human and all. They didn’t have to deal with it.

After a short silence, Leliana replied, “In that case, I shall tell you all that I can. After all, I did spend quite a few years in service to the Chantry. It’s the least I could do.”

“Aaaaand I’ll leave _that_ to you!” Alistair exclaimed, quickly changing step and letting them walk ahead. “Have fun!”

Leif could only guess that Alistair wasn’t much of a teacher. Leliana only chuckled lightly in response, smiling down at him.

“That’s fine by me. I can trust that you, at least, will take this seriously.”

“Well, I’ll certainly try.” After all, he was the one who’d asked.

* * *

 

Leliana talked about how the Maker created the world and everything in it. How all of His creations inevitably disappointed and betrayed Him. It all sounded very sad. He learned about the Tevinter Imperium, the Fade, spirits, demons, the elvish Dales, Exalted Marches, and Andraste.

 _Boy, she sure can talk._ It seemed that she was never at a loss for words and she always knew how to lead into the next segment of her lesson. She must’ve been really useful in the Chantry.

They’d been walking for a few hours at that point and while it was all really interesting, his attention was beginning to waver. Leliana was going over the Commandments of the Maker and Leif was beginning to wonder what the Maker _didn’t_ think was bad.

“All things in this world are finite.

What one man gains, another has lost.

Those who steal from their brothers and sisters

Do harm to their livelihood and to their peace of mind.

Our Maker sees this with a heavy heart.”

Leif couldn’t suppress the yawn that had been building up for the last few minutes. Hopefully she didn’t notice. Before she could take a breath for another line of the Chant, he quickly interjected.

“Man, sounds like I’ve got a lot to make up for.” _I’m pretty sure I’ve crossed everything off of that list._

She laughed lightly and he smiled. “As do we all. None can go through life entirely free of sin. That is why we must do our best to make up for it.”

“I don’t think we’ll get much of a chance.” He said somberly, eyes narrowing on the trail ahead.

Leliana must have followed his gaze and come to the same conclusion. She waved a hand for the others to stop and nodded at him to move ahead.

He stealthily avoided the traps that had been barely concealed in their path. It looked like a hack job at first glance, but someone had some kind of an idea about what they were working with. He pocketed a few of the triggers that he could salvage for future use. Lifting one of the flasks he found, he caught a whiff of the bottled mixture and frowned as a sense of wooziness rushed through his senses.

 _Sleeping gas?_ He shook his head and stood up, moving away from the disarmed trap.

Listening intently for whoever was lying in wait, he immediately threw the glass in the direction of the first sound he heard. The sound of it shattering was immediately followed by people shouting, coughing, and scrambling to escape the fumes.

Leif stood with his blades drawn and ready as nearly a dozen humans ran out of the brush and into the road. A few of them swayed in place, but the rest looked like they’d escaped the effects of their backfired trap. Each of them was armed and more than one looked like they were barely old enough to hold a blade, let alone know how to use one.

“It looks like we _may_ be in a bit of a pickle, wouldn’t you say?” Nereus’s smooth voice rolled over to him, causing him to shift his attention from the crowd before them.

Leif was startled to see that more enemies had flanked them on the left of the trail. Everyone in their group had their weapons drawn and eyes alert, while poor Bodahn and Sandal sat paralyzed with fear in the front seat of their wagon.

 _Where did they all come from?_ He’d thought that the hounds would’ve sniffed them out at least. Or maybe not. The bandits looked like they’d been in the woods for a while. Maybe they knew how to blend in at this point.

Nereus stepped forward. “Who speaks for you? Perhaps we can come to an agreement.”

A woman in ragged clothing and pieced together armor stood apart from the main group. “We didn’t want to fight. Just give us the wagon and we’ll call it even. You can keep what you got on you.”

The mage shook his head, placing his hands on his hips. While he kept his new staff strapped to his back he made no move for the weapon.

“That doesn’t sound like much of a deal. After all, _we_ are the victims here.” He smiled disarmingly. “How about you go your way and we’ll continue on ours. No one gets hurt. It’ll be as if you never saw us.”

The woman laughed nastily. “Not a chance, pretty boy. Look, we got nothing against you. But you’ve got things folk like us need. We’re all victims of the Blight. We got children to care for, you see?”

Leif scowled. It was clear that the group was using the kids as a disarming tactic. It was cruel, but it would work. None of them wanted to hurt kids.

“Victim or not, you shouldn’t take advantage of others.” Leliana lectured her. “Perhaps if you were simply refugees and had asked for our help-”

“We _are_ refugees!” The woman interrupted. “We didn’t _want_ to do this! There’s just… nothing left. We had everything taken from us. So why shouldn’t we take it back?”

Something in her voice pulled at his heart. Leif believed her. Looking at all of them, he could see it. They weren’t soldiers turned bandits. They were friends and family that had nothing left. They were just desperate. He knew how far desperation could go.

“Would it be so bad to practice mercy?” Leliana pressed softly. “Surely there are some things we can live without? At least until we’ve reached Redcliffe.”

“It does seem a bit harsh to treat them like regular bandits.” Alistair mumbled just loud enough for their party to hear.

Leif looked back at Adora to see her whispering something to Nereus. She caught his gaze and quickly looked away, saying nothing.

“Parshaara.” Sten snapped. “They are thieves, nothing more. Let us deal with them and move on.”

“I agree.” Morrigan added coolly. “Do we not have someplace important to be? Or is stopping the Blight at the _bottom_ of our priorities now?”

“Oh! How could I forget?” Nereus smacked his forehead. “Correct as usual, Lady Morrigan. My humblest apologies for the delay.” He looked back at the refugees turned bandits. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse us. We are on _official_ Warden business. Archdemons don’t kill themselves, you know. Oh… unless you’re interested in that bounty?”

“What’re you doing?” Leif hissed, watching the various emotions flickering across the faces of their enemies.

“If they attack us, then we show them they’ve made a mistake in doing so.” The mage whispered, never taking his eyes off the woman they’d been dealing with. “We cannot afford to stand here all day making bargains for _our_ possessions.”

“That doesn’t mean we need to kill ‘em!” He growled in response. “Can’t you see they’re desperate?”

Nereus spared him a troubled glance. “Of course I do. Just know that more people will end up in their place if we don’t end this threat as swiftly as possible. The smartest thing we can do is protect ourselves until the Blight is ended. Now, fall in line. I can do this with or without you.”

It seemed the chance to bargain had passed.

“Wardens or not,” the woman called out, signaling to her cohorts. “We outnumber you. I’m sorry it came to this, but you’ve left us no choice!”

“Shit!” Leif dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding an oncoming arrow. They sure didn’t wait long.

He bounced up again, whipping around to face his nearest opponent. An older man with a sword was coming his way. Before he made it within striking range, the man suddenly slowed, dropping his sword as he groaned and swayed.

Hearing the sound of many weapons dropping, Leif could see the enemies nearest to them suffering the same effects. The ones further away were warily keeping their distance.

Looking back at Nereus, he could see the man standing in the same place, staring back at the woman who’d ordered the attack. He hadn’t done anything… had he? After a moment’s glance, he saw Morrigan in her battle stance, staff held tightly as her lips moved to some spell.

“Are you willing to go against _mages_?” Nereus called out, finally taking the staff from its strap. “We can make this easy… or we can make it hurt.”

The woman looked both terrified and enraged. “You can’t get all of us with your spells!”

“Are you willing to bet your life on that? I haven’t even begun to show you what _I’m_ capable of.”

Leif saw that at least half of them had come into contact with whatever Morrigan had done. They were in no condition to fight. If Nereus used any of his nasty tricks, their enemies would find themselves painting the forest red. Just thinking about it made his skin crawl. He knew that dwarves had a natural resistance to magic… but he didn’t know how far that resistance went. It scared him.

Watching the people they stood against suffer the repercussions of threatening them should have been satisfying to some degree. Instead, it made him sick. They should be helping people, not teaching them a lesson when they mouthed off.

He hoped they chose to back off. He didn’t want to see what would happen if they didn’t.

* * *

 

Nereus

* * *

 

 

Dozens of bodies littered the ground. A few lay unmoving while others groaned in pain, holding their heads or weakly attempting to crawl into the brush. Those left standing dropped their weapons, throwing them far out of reach as instructed.

Nereus never returned the staff to its sling. He didn’t trust them, even if they seemed to be cooperating for the moment. He motioned with one hand for his party to move forward and he didn’t take his eyes off the woman leading the ragtag bandit group.

Bodahn led the wagon along the trail with Adora, Bethany, Sten, and Alistair as an escort. The rest stayed behind with him and Morrigan, warily watching the would-be thieves as they slowly moved beyond their reach. When the wagon was a good distance along, Nereus moved to follow, stepping lightly over an unconscious form as he approached the woman in charge.

She was crying.

“You made the right choice,” he murmured as he passed her. “Don’t make the mistake of coming after us again. Next time, I won’t hold back.”

He walked on, not waiting for a reaction or a reply. He could hear the others following and that was all he needed. They’d wasted enough time for the day.

 

* * *

 

 

After an hour of checking over his shoulder, Nereus was assured that they weren’t being followed. As much as he doubted they’d be in a condition to follow, what with so many passed out or weakened, he couldn’t help but feel just a little paranoid. They’d certainly looked desperate enough to risk death.

An image of the woman crying flashed before his eyes. He’d never had someone look at him with so much blame in their eyes. As much as he’d seen that look before, it had never been directed at him. Not even with Jowan…

Nereus shook his head. _This is no time to dwell on past mistakes. Not when I have so many future fuck ups to look forward to._

He sighed when he sensed someone walking beside him. Of course it was only a matter of time before Leif summoned up the courage to berate him. To his surprise, it was only Bethany.

Instead of continuing to act irritated, he smiled tiredly at the younger mage. “I see you have some thoughts you’d like to share.”

She looked up at him, confused. “No. I just thought… are you alright?”

 _Not what I was expecting…_ He wasn’t sure how to answer. No one had asked him that in a while. “A little on edge, but who isn’t?”

Bethany nodded in agreement. “It was a little unsettling. I didn’t think it could get so bad so quickly. I hope… I hope it isn’t like that everywhere.”

He knew she was thinking about her family. _Our family._ It was still strange for him to think. Even if they weren’t the closest relations, it was more than what he’d had before.

He wanted to reassure her in some way, but everything he could think of felt forced. It was so easy to lie and dance around ugly truths most of the time, but with some people he couldn’t help but be at a loss for words. Luckily for him it was only Bethany and Adora that had that effect on him. Too many people and he’d really be in a bind.

“What’s it like in a Circle?” Bethany asked suddenly, drawing him out of his thoughts. “Father didn’t like talking about it.”

Nereus frowned and looked down at her. “Do you really want to know? I don’t know where your father spent time, but I can’t imagine he had a good experience if he didn’t want to talk about it.”

Bethany sighed and looked away. “You sound like him when you say it like that. And I _do want to know. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future and just in case… I want to be prepared.”_

 _Maker’s balls…_ He shook his head. “That’s not going to happen.”

Even without checking, he could feel her dark brown eyes staring at him. “You can’t promise that.”

“Oh?” He smiled and looked back at her. “I’m a Grey Warden. Regardless of what the ‘regent’ says, we can recruit whomever we please. The Circle is bound by a treaty with us and they’ll honor it. If I say you’re a Warden, they can’t take you.”

For a moment she just stared at him, as if trying to detect whether he was telling the truth or not. At last, she looked away. He dropped the smile and stared at the road ahead.

“Regardless, I won’t allow any mage I know to be taken to the Circle. Not while I can prevent it.”

“But you grew up there, didn’t you?” She asked timidly. “Is there not anything you miss?”

She sounded so desperate to find something good about it. It made him sad. A free mage should never want to hear about how good their potential prison could be. Still, there was one good thing that only the Circle could provide for mages: education.

“The library,” he said, thinking of the glow of candles, the scent of melting wax and dusty tomes intermingling in the indoor gloom. “Everything else… I would sooner face the darkspawn than go back to that place.”

The worst thing was knowing that he _had_ to go back; for the blasted treaty. Sure, he could hang back and let Adora and Alistair handle it. That was definitely an option.

 _You’re a leader now, Nereus. You have to act like one._ That’s what he told himself, at least. He couldn’t let his fears get the better of him.

“So it really was that horrible then?” Bethany wondered, sounding shocked.

Nereus shrugged. “It all depends on who you ask. I didn’t have the greatest time, but it was far from the worst. There are others that can never speak of what horrors and indignities they bore in the Circle; that right was taken from them. I… I’m not there anymore. I’m one of the lucky ones.” He took a calming breath and uncurled his fists, smoothing his hands over his armor. “I had a life before the Circle. Like yours. I would give anything to have continued it and grown up free.”

“Was I really?” She asked bitterly. “Always hiding, never able to make friends or stay in one place for too long. Is that really what you consider ‘free’?”

“You had your family. You didn’t have to lie awake, wondering if they’d be coming for you that night or if they’d chosen another victim. You had people who would protect you and give their life for you, not sell you out to protect themselves.” He remembered what it was like before the Circle. He knew what Bethany had gone through, but it was nothing compared to the constant fear of the templars. Or worse, the other mages. People like Uldred that preyed on the weak and the lost, recruiting them as cronies and informants. The templars were just the obvious bullies to be on the lookout for.

He couldn’t help but reflect on his last day there. The look of despair on Jowan’s face… he’d caused that. He’d been a fool and trusted the wrong person.

 _He was a blood mage._ He tried to reason with his guilt. But he knew better.

The gentle touch of a warm hand on his fingers dragged him out of his dark thoughts. He looked down and saw Bethany looking back at him.

“I’m sorry,” she conceded softly, pulling her hand away from his after a moment. “You’re right. I know why Father didn’t want to talk about it. I just hoped that maybe… maybe it was different now. I just wish I didn’t have to be afraid of living.”

The last part was admitted so quietly that Nereus felt lucky to have heard it. It hurt his heart to hear someone so kind and so _good_  speak with such fear and guilt over simply existing. He’d seen it in other mages, of course, but none that he’d really cared to have a connection with. It was different with Bethany. The moment he’d seen her, he’d seen her as Family and someone to Protect. When Leandra had asked him to take her along, he’d known that he would do anything to keep her safe. She was a connection to the life he should have had – the life denied to all mages.

 _It has to end,_ he thought, unable to find words to accept her apology as he awkwardly reached out and touched her shoulder in a quiet symbol of acceptance. _One day it will be different. They can’t keep us chained forever._

He could only hope that he lived long enough to see such a day.

 

* * *

 

 

After another hour of walking, Nereus was convinced the bandit group wasn’t following them. They’d come across several splits in the road by then and there had been so sign of anyone coming after them. He wasn’t completely relaxed, of course – there were plenty of dangers to be on the lookout for – but it was one less thing to worry about.

They were coming around another bend in the road, slowing making their way downhill. He was still near the back of their little train, but he heard the exclamations of surprise from the front. Nereus quickened his steps until he could see the little stone cottage that had caught everyone’s attention.

“We must be getting closer,” Adora sighed in relief, leaning against the wagon and gingerly lifting one boot with a grimace. “Isn’t there another village near Redcliffe?”

Alistair nodded. “Yes, the Crossroads. It’s just an hour outside of Redcliffe. If we’re near the Crossroads, Redcliffe is just beyond. If we keep this up we should make it well before nightfall.”

“In that case, let’s keep moving.” Knowing that rest wasn’t far, he suddenly became aware of all of the aches in his body. His feet were throbbing and probably had blisters upon blisters; his back wasn’t doing too great, either. He was halfway tempted to remove the staff and use it as a walking stick. Although it might be a little unbalanced with the large steel blades fixed atop it.

 _It’s best to just keep trekking on._ After all, he was the leader and needed to set an example. He didn’t want them to see how tired he was and think he was weak. It was the qunari that he worried about most. The giant had made it abundantly clear that he didn’t think any of them were fit to lead.

Taking action, he set a pace and moved ahead of the group, leading them down the road towards a wide fissure in a cliff wall. The road passed through, lined with trees, flowers, and brush throughout and he began to see more signs of habitation.

Soon enough, he saw what appeared to be a small collection of homes sprinkled along a crossroads. Traditional, hardy Fereldan houses made of strong hardwood and built upon stone foundations; moss and grass coated the rooftops and some even appeared as gardens with flowers and herbs blooming in abundance. The roads had been cobbled long ago but had been pounded flat into the red dirt by constant foot traffic. There were some people out and about and more than a few wagons packed with either personal belongings or goods for sale. Nereus could clearly see more than a few tents pitched between homes, but it was nothing compared to the refugee shanty village that had appeared at Lothering’s gates.

“Finally,” Adora whispered with a sigh of relief. “This is it, isn’t it?”

Alistair nodded firmly. “Seems like it.” His amber eyes scanned the scant populace and he frowned. “I remember it being busier than this the last time I passed through.”

“The Blight has many fleeing for their lives,” Leliana chipped in. “Although I’m surprised to see so few refugees here. Why would so many stop at Lothering rather than press on?”

“I’d imagine many would stick to the Highway to flee north.” Adora replied, her gentle voice tinged with pity. “They wouldn’t think to find refuge in the heart of Ferelden.”

Morrigan’s voice added further chill to the already cold air. “’Tis likely they would find nothing but death if they chose to settle here.” Her voice was hard and entirely bereft of sympathy. “Those already here would be wise to move on. The lake would only slow their escape, likely dooming them in the process.”

Nereus could sense the distaste emanating from their more softhearted companions. While he understood their ire, he happened to agree with Morrigan. Getting out of Ferelden might be the safest course of action with the way things were going. Not that the uneducated masses truly understood what sort of position they were in.

Before anyone could say anything, Adora spoke up again. “Perhaps we should take this opportunity to ask about current events? It’s been some days since we’ve heard any rumors.”

“An excellent idea,” Nereus agreed with a smile. “Let's see... Leif, perhaps you could accompany Bodahn and Sandal to speak with local merchants? Take the opportunity to sell some of our spare ‘acquired’ items.”

The dwarf frowned at his request, but nodded all the same. He took off with the other dwarves, never uttering a word.

 _He’s still mad?_ Nereus hoped he cooled off soon. As if they needed more tension in their group.

He continued issuing his orders. “Adora, why don’t you and Leliana speak with some of the refugees? Find out where they’re from, what the situation is like. Any rumors could be useful.”

The redheads nodded, quickly moving in the direction of the tents and already conversing together. _From behind they almost look like sisters,_ he thought, watching them go before looking at the leftovers. He was surprised to see that both Lucky and Lady were sitting and waiting patiently for their orders.

“Well… dogs.” He started, unsure of what to do. “You’re smart, aren’t you? See if you can find anything useful.” The hounds barked enthusiastically and ran off. He wondered what they’d consider “useful”. “Hm… Alistair, why don’t you and Bethany go talk up some of the locals; you two look friendly.” That basically covered everything. He looked to the last two. “Sten, stand around and look intimidating. Or you can join Morrigan and I. I was thinking we could take advantage of the variety of herbs and flowers in this area, perhaps stock up on a few ingredients.”

The qunari grumbled something in his harsh language and settled against a crumbling stone wall, glaring silently as everyone broke off to cater to their respective tasks.

Nereus shrugged and looked to Morrigan, who seemed neither annoyed nor interested by his decision. At first he wasn’t sure if she’d go along with it, but when he started off for the nearest cluster of elfroot, he found her at his side among the weeds and grass. They silently plucked the plants from the earth, tucking ingredients into a satchel as they went along.

There wasn’t any hostility that he could sense from her, but Nereus disliked the silence between them. He cleared his throat, but didn’t look up from his task as he moved through the grass. “So… is this what you thought you’d be doing when you left the Wilds?”

Morrigan’s answer was – unsurprisingly – short. “‘Tis not.”

Nereus sighed and rolled his eyes. _Fascinating._ For all the time they’d spent together since Ostagar, he knew next to nothing about the witch. She seemed to like it that way. As bitchy as she was, he found himself wanting to know more. She was a true apostate, having lived her entire life free of the Chantry and its laws. He couldn’t help but be curious.

“Would you mind if I asked you something?” It wouldn’t hurt to try again.

She sighed loudly. “If you must.”

“Did you grow up in the Wilds? You seem rather… _cultured_ for a woman I met in a swamp.”

 _Perhaps that wasn’t the best way to phrase it,_ he thought as he caught her piercing glare.

“I sense another meaning in your words. Perhaps you meant to say: ‘Well behaved for a southern savage?’”

Nereus flinched and shook his head in defense. “No, I-”

“Why do you ask me such questions?” She asked, clearly annoyed and pausing in her work. “I do not probe _you_ for pointless information, do I?”

 _I sure wouldn’t mind if you did._ Even lined with anger she was beautiful. He recovered from his staring and ripped a fistful of elfroot from the ground, shoving it into the bag. “Is it wrong that I wish to know more about you? Who knows how long we’ll be traveling together? I’d rather you not remain as you appear in our brief exchanges throughout our entire journey.”

Morrigan snorted in response. “As if I care how I may appear in the eyes of your fragile ego.”

Feeling more than a little irritated himself, Nereus sat back and leveled his icy stare at the other mage. “Lady Morrigan, I don’t _care_ that you don’t care. Just answer the damned question for the sake of civility. We’ve a long ways to go before you can return to your mother’s side.”

For a moment they just stared at each other in silence. Morrigan looked away, but she seemed to think before she spoke and her voice lost its ire. “Have it your way. What is it you asked? If I ‘grew up’ in the Wilds?” She was silent again, her hand coiling around a pastel stalk of royal elfroot. “A curious question. Where else would you picture me?”

Somehow her tone emboldened him and he found himself saying the first thing that popped into his mind. “Any number of unsavory places, I assure you.”

To his surprise, she stifled a laugh before plucking the rare herb and placing it in her own bag. “I’m sure.” She turned away, her hands running through the tall grass as she searched for more materials. “For many years it was simply Flemeth and I. The Wilds and its creatures were more real to me than Flemeth’s tales of the world of man. In time, I grew curious. I left the Wilds to explore what lay beyond. Never for long. Brief forays into a civilized wilderness.”

Her voice sounded almost wistful at the end. She always sounded so harsh and antagonistic, so he couldn’t help but wish to hear her speak more in such a delicate tone.

“You always returned to the Wilds? You never wanted to just… leave?” After all, how could living isolated in the damp southern wilderness compare to being in a cozy little hamlet?

Morrigan shook her head. “Would you not do the same? _Your_ world is an unforgiving and cold place. Having been confined to a Circle, you should know this well.” She certainly had him there. “The Wilds _I_ hail from is home to me, and I a natural denizen. For all that I had been taught, however, the truth of the civilized lands proved to be… overwhelming.”

Although she sounded embarrassed to admit it, Nereus laughed. “I have a hard time imagining _you_ as overwhelmed.”

She smiled bitterly. “I was once young and foolish. I was unfamiliar with _so much_. So confident and bold was I, yet there was much that Flemeth could _never_ have prepared me for.”

Nereus nodded. He could understand how it might be difficult to adjust to a foreign civilization. “I can imagine there might be a few things. Did no one ever suspect that you were different?”

She looked at him, dark amusement flashing in her yellow eyes. “‘Different’ you say. You mean to ask if anyone ever suspected I was an apostate. Only once was I accused of being a Witch of the Wilds, and that by a Chasind who happened to be traveling with a merchant caravan. He pointed and gasped and began shouting in his strange language-”

“Strange language?” He interrupted, confused. “So you’re _not_ Chasind?”

The witch smiled coyly. “I _thought_ you might have believed that fool when he said as much. Living in the same territory does not make me one of them. Flemeth raised me and she alone. As she is no Chasind, neither am I.”

“Huh.” He had assumed she was one of the natives easily enough. He wondered if she considered herself to belong to any people at all. He shrugged. “My mistake. Please, continue.”

This time _she_ rolled her eyes. “Ah, yes.” She sounded rather amused as she continued her tale. “Well, his actions were so foreign to those present that most assumed that _he_ was casting a curse upon _me_. I acted the terrified girl and naturally he was arrested.”

Nereus laughed at the self-satisfied smirk on her face. “That was smart. I don’t think I would have been able to handle it the same way.”

“Surely not, as you are a man and I, a woman.” Morrigan agreed derisively. “Men are _always_ willing to believe two things about a woman: one, that she is weak, and two, that she finds him attractive. I played the weakling and batted my eyelashes at the captain of the guard.” She laughed softly. “Child’s play.”

Nereus shook his head with a smile. “Fine. I’ll admit it: I’m impressed. Although I’ll keep that in mind the next time I encounter a strange woman in need of help.”

“That would require a woman to feign interest in you. Now who would stoop to such a level?” Her smug tone wavered slightly with laughter.

“You, I hope.” He replied quickly, the words just slipping out. He stopped searching the grass and chanced a glance in her direction, unsure of her reaction.

She’d been staring at him with a curious look in her eyes, but when their eyes met she turned away. “The _point_ being that I was able to move though human lands fairly easily. Whatever humans think a Witch of the Wild looks like, ‘tis not _I_.” Having seemingly recovered from whatever awkwardness had passed, she continued as before. “Not that I did not have trouble. There are things about human society that have always puzzled me. Such as the _touching_ – _why_ all the _touching_ for a simple greeting?”

Intrigued by her diffident response to his light flirting, he couldn’t help but press his luck. “Were you upset by all the bad touching, Lady Morrigan?”

She hummed in amusement. “At least with _that_ sort of touching I would have been able to intuit the intent with far greater ease.” Seeming to realize her response had lacked venom, she hurried her next words, almost rambling. “There were many nuances that Flemeth could never tell me of. When to look into another’s eyes, how to eat at a table, how to bargain without offending… none of these things I knew. I _still_ do not understand it all, truth be told. But, then, I gave up long ago any hope of doing so. When I returned to the Wilds last, I swore to Flemeth that I had no intention of leaving again.”

 _Was that a positive reaction?_ Nereus wasn’t entirely sure. He hoped it was. He tried not to dwell on it.

“Well, I’m glad it worked out this way at least.” Maybe he _was_ dwelling on it. Trying to deflect his eagerness, he quickly added, “You’re a powerful ally.”

That seemed to do the trick. “ _Yes_. Let’s ignore the darkspawn threat and the presence of a simpleton as your only experienced Grey Warden ally, then.” To his shock, she met his eyes. “Not that I lack appreciation for the intent of your comment. Thank you.”

Aside from her jab at Alistair, it didn’t seem like too bad of an exchange between them. In fact, he found himself rather liking their conversation, as mangled as it had started. He decided to let her insult slide.

“You’re welcome, naturally. To be fair, we may not be experienced, but we’re damned determined.”

“I’m _sure_ the darkspawn are terribly frightened by your determination. Truly, the power of friendship will save us all in our darkest hour.” Was he imagining things or did her sass have a little less bite than before?

He winced playfully. “Hey, don’t mock it! Darkspawn panic in the presence of love and justice. Everyone knows that.”

“Is that what your senior Warden taught you?” Morrigan smiled ruefully. “I’m hardly one to criticize such a _wise_ and _experienced_ warrior.”

“Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson.” He said as seriously as he could muster, imitating the way the senior enchanters had talked down to the apprentices. “We Grey Wardens know a thing or two about Blights.”

“So you do.” She agreed teasingly.

Suddenly, her lips tipped into a frown and she looked away. She pushed herself up from the ground, barely taking time to brush the dirt from her knees. “Well, let’s get a move on with it before the ground opens up and swallows us, yes?”

Unconcerned by her strange response, Nereus looked at the thoroughly picked over grass and shrugged. “As you say, Lady Morrigan.”

She was already walking away from him, but she turned back to scowl. “And stop calling me that. I am no lady, lest you forget.”

Nereus leveled a smile at her, responding neatly, “Are you not? I’ve met no more beautiful a lady in my life.”

She looked almost mortified before hardening her glare. “Your imagined ‘charm’ has no effect on me, Warden, I-”

“Nereus.”

She stuttered over his interruption. “I- what?”

“My name.” He clarified condescendingly, covering the distance between them. “Or have you forgotten? Manners, my lady. Surely Flemeth taught you that much.”

Her lips twitched. Whether it was in amusement or anger, he couldn’t say. “You… are infuriating. I will not call you by name so you may play pretend at companionship.”

 _And here I’d thought we’d come so far._ He still believed that he’d made progress. Still, he wouldn’t force the issue. “Hm… that’s fair. I’d rather not pretend.” _I’ll just have to earn it._

“Nor would I.” She shifted her gaze back the way they’d come. “Warden, are we done here? I see the others have completed their tasks.”

Following her stare, he saw that the others had rejoined Sten where he’d been left behind. “So they have. It’s best we get into Redcliffe and assess the situation as soon as possible.”

_From the look on their faces, I’m thinking we may have our work cut out for us._

* * *

 

 

Nereus worried more the closer he drew to his companions. Adora was visibly shaking and he could see tears streaming down her face as she defiantly stood away from the others. Alistair looked shaken as well, his handsome face drawn into a frown. Bethany was looking at Nereus, clearly bothered by whatever news she’d heard. No one looked happy about their discoveries.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out, Nereus looked first to Leif, who looked the least unsettled. “Any luck?”

The dwarf nodded. “Sold a buncha the extra crap we’ve been luggin’ around. Picked up some stable rations in case we run outta fresh food.”

Nereus nodded appreciatively. “Good thinking. Any news?”

Leif grimaced and looked to the others before continuing. “Yeah. None of it good.”

“I feared as much.” He saw the dogs returning, each with something clamped in their teeth. Lady carried a dirty bottle and Lucky had what appeared to be a book. A very chewed and moist book, but a book nonetheless. They both proudly dropped their found items at his feet, wagging their stubby tails as they did so.

Unsure of how to respond to the display, Nereus patted each dog on the head and delicately grasped the items they’d procured for him. They actually looked interesting. Making a disgusted face at the feeling of moisture on his palms, he shoved the bottle and book into his pack before looking back at Leif.

The dwarf looked very confused, but didn’t question his actions.

Nereus shrugged. “How about we head towards Redcliffe? You can tell me everything on the way.”

Leif nodded. “Let’s do that.”

* * *

 

It was _bad_ news. All of it. Some of it he didn’t know if he should believe, but they lived in strange times. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised to learn that there were werewolves stalking the Brecilian forest. Because of _course_ there would be. As if the Blight wasn’t bad enough.

Most pertinent to his own interests was learning that something was going on at the Circle. The templars weren’t letting anyone across the water anymore and no one was talking. He didn’t want to think about that. He wanted to go and see for himself, but they already had too much to do. It would have to wait.

Apparently the dwarven king had died and Orzammar had shut itself off. That _definitely_ sounded like it would complicate things. Hopefully the dwarves would let them in when they mentioned the treaties. Although it would likely be some time before they got that far. Hopefully the dwarves would have their problem solved before then.

Before Leif could even finish his rendition of the news, others had joined in. Alistair was the first, sounding furious.

“The Orlesian Grey Wardens have been turned away at the border!” He ground out, his brows drawn together. “Can you believe it?! It’s almost as if Loghain is _actively_ trying to destroy Ferelden!”

“There’s more.” Leif added grimly. He looked back and Nereus followed his gaze to Adora.

She looked up from the ground, her gray eyes rimmed red from crying. “Arl Urien of Denerim died at Ostagar. His son has since died in some kind of revolt in the city.” She clenched her fists. “The _regent_ has named Rendon Howe as both arl of Denerim… and teyrn of Highever.”

Nereus felt his heart clench at the pain in her voice. He wanted to hold her and tell her it would be okay… but he couldn’t. He felt that it would undermine her feelings. Besides, he wasn’t sure if everything _would_ be okay. He couldn’t lie about that.

Alistair was looking at her with the same eyes. He was angered and hurt on her behalf. Nereus wasn’t even sure if he knew the whole story, but he had to know enough.

“The worst we’ve heard is about Redcliffe.” Leif continued solemnly. “It’s been a long while since anyone has heard from the castle.”

“How often _do_ people hear word from the arl?” Nereus directed this to Alistair.

The Warden shrugged. “Not as often as you’d think. But the entire village has gone dark. There were rumors about a sickness and… a quarantine.”

“Merchant we talked to said there’s nothin’ but death at Redcliffe.” Leif concluded. “The guy was real shaken. Wouldn’t say nothin’ more about it.”

“Shiiiit.” Nereus groaned. “If it’s the blight sickness… that’s all it could be, right? Someone must have come from Ostagar or Lothering and infected the village.”

Alistair faltered. “It’s… possible. There were a lot of sick people in Lothering. I don’t know. It seems like not enough time has passed but… well, what do I know?” He shook his head. “This matches up with what Ser Donall told us. He said Arl Eamon is severely ill. Lady Isolde had sent the knights of Redcliffe to search for the Urn of Sacred Ashes. It could only be under the worst circumstances that she would demand such a thing.”

Suddenly, Lady started barking excitedly, prancing around Adora and darting towards the woods.

“What?” Adora questioned the hound, clearly shocked by the dog’s display. She watched the dog bouncing about and frowned. “I don’t understand. She’s… happy?”

Nereus looked at the stretch of woods that lined the road, wondering what could have garnered such a reaction from the dog.

“Someone’s coming,” Leliana whispered quietly, her blue eyes narrowed as she observed their surroundings.

They all paused; even Bodahn halted the wagon as they waited.

It couldn’t be an attack. There was no way the dog would react like that. Lucky didn’t seem excited, but he didn’t look perturbed, either. So if it wasn’t a threat… then what?

Soon he heard movement in the brush. And cursing. Or he thought it was cursing. It wasn’t in the common tongue, but someone sure sounded frustrated. The voice dropped off after Lady started barking again.

Things were quiet for a minute and then a familiar figure stepped out of the woods. Nereus was shocked and Adora screamed, running towards the one they’d thought they’d lost.

She was covered in scrapes and bruises, her armor dented and bloodstained, and her long dark hair tangled, but her eyes were fierce and alive and her lips were smiling.

“Ir abelas, ma falon.” Maiara embraced Adora, holding her tightly. “I did not mean to make you wait so long.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeesh, this took forever. I was technically homeless for the last couple of months, so I haven't been too motivated to work on anything. I finally have a new place and I'm feeling good about that, so I finished this and whipped up an illustration.
> 
> Translations:  
> Parshaara - Enough


End file.
